You never know when you may have to explain the birds and the bees to your children.
I did not think this would come into play at their tender ages of 11 and eight, but thanks to my mother-in-law, I had the
horror opportunity to tell them a little bit about how babies are made.
One Tuesday night as I was in the middle of teaching a tap class, I received a frantic voice mail from my mother-in-law, Salt.
It went a little like this: “Allison, hey. We have a problem here. The dogs are stuck together and I don’t know what to do! They have been stuck for over 20 minutes and I can’t get a hold of anyone. You must call me back as soon as you get this because I just don’t know what to do!”
Reluctantly I returned the call.
“Hi there. I only have a minute because I am in between classes,” I said.
“Chewie and Maisy got stuck together! It has been over 30 minutes! I didn’t know what to do!” she wailed.
“Are they still stuck together?” I asked in a calm voice so I could try and assess the situation.
“No. Finally they got themselves unstuck. I called the vet because I couldn’t get anyone on the phone,” she exclaimed, her voice revealing how stressful it had been for her. “And the boys wanted to watch it the entire time! I had to close the curtains!”
After hanging up with her and finishing teaching my dance classes, I ran my dudes to the store.
It would be an understatement to say there were a few questions that were asked.
“Mom, why were the dogs stuck together?”
“Mom, grandma said that Chewie’s penis had to shrink before they could be unstuck. Why?”
“Mom, what does amorous mean?”
“Mom, why did grandma tell the vet the dogs were ‘getting it on’? What does ‘getting it on’ mean and where were they getting it on to?”
“Mom, did you know that Chewie looked like he was doing the Harlem Shake on Maisy’s back?”
“Mom, Grandma kept trying to close the curtains so we couldn’t see the dogs. Why was she doing that?”
and the biggest question of all:
“Mom, is that how people make babies?”
By this time, I am standing in front of the cashier at Kohl’s. She is staring at me like I have lost my marbles (which, at that second, I wished was true). Both boys were staring at me, too, waiting for answers.
Surely this should have been the exact moment I could’ve said, “Ask your father.” But, alas, I am not that lucky.
I started lightly. “Amorous means really, really lovey.” Yes, I took the easiest question first. Can you blame me?
Next answer: “Chewie probably doesn’t know the Harlem Shake,” but then I asked the stupidest question, “How exactly did this start?
Both dudes jumped at the chance to answer, speaking over each other. The cashier looked at me like I had horns.
“Well, you see Mom, Chewie came inside and started following Maisy around. I mean, literally, (he uses this word a lot – he is 8) Chewie would not leave her alone,” Squishy chimed in.
“Yeah, and then he started to jump on her and stuff,” said 11-year-old String Bean with a wide-eyed grin, “And he wouldn’t stop, don’t be mad if I say this next part, Mom, OK? Grandma said it wasn’t a bad word.”
“Ummm, OK, I guess?!” Fear bubbled up inside of me.
“Chewie started humping her. That is what Grandma called it,” he said, looking at me to gauge my reaction.
Squishy interjects, “Yeah, Mom, it was crazy! It looked like this,” as he begins a vivid demonstration even Elvis would not have attempted on national TV.
“OK. You can stop showing me now,” I said as I pushed them out of Kohl’s.
“And Grandma said Maisy was a hussy. What exactly is a hussy, Mom? I’ve never heard of that word before.”
And so it goes.
As I tucked the dudes into bed that night, they were still buzzing about the events of the evening. They were hoping puppies would arrive soon (I did have to break down and explain how puppies are made), and they were bouncing off of the walls about the entire situation.
Squishy did have an ace up his sleeve. “Mom, look at this!” he said, shoving his iPod in my face, “Here they are stuck together!”
Photographic proof of the event taken by an eight-year-old. Amorous, indeed.