Innocence

At the age of eight my lovely, innocent little boy is on the verge of discovering what ‘sexing’ is.
There are already whispers in the playground.
Giggles behind hands at the sight of a Calvin Klein advert. Sniggering whenever a couple kiss on the TV. Cat calls and ‘whit woos’ whenever hubby do as much as hold hands.
We know we are on the cusp of THAT conversation.

In the middle of watching The Three Musketeers recently – all heaving bosoms, innuendo and ‘wenching’ – Dan announced all matter of fact that “my willy goes dead dead straight when they kiss”.
Oh god.

I told him recently: “I’m a lover not a fighter” and he nearly hyperventilated from a fits of giggles. Maybe should wait until he’s 10 for sayings like that . . .

Hubby and I have been invited to the wedding of a very dear friend at the end of August
Dan: “But they’re already married aren’t they?”
Me: “No.”
Dan: “So did they split up and get back together again?”
Me: “No. They’ve always been together.”
Dan: “But they’ve got a little girl.”
My brain starts to function properly and I can see EXACTLY where this is heading.

Dan (eyes wide in realisation): “They’ve got a little girl! Mummy, that means they *whispers* did it before they got married.”
He can’t quite believe what he’s discovered and his eyes are as wide as saucers and there is a huge, dirty grin on his face.
Then the face drops. Falls to the floor.

“You and daddy didn’t do it before you were married did you?” he asks with the most serious expression on his face.
“No, no son,” I say tactfully. “You were born after we were married.”

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