In church this morning our pastor's sermon topic was sex. Check out 1 Corinthians 7 if you would like a little light reading of your own around the breakfast table with your kiddos. He warned us at the beginning that if we were squeamish about openly discussing sex in front of our children that we should suck it up and get over ourselves because it's important. (that's totally my paraphrase right there, but I specifically remember the word 'squeamish') To that I say, if you are indeed faint of heart about this subject, just send your kids to our house, and we can explain everything!
You see, Pastor Bobby's sermon just happened to collide with another momentous event in the King-dom. Kid #1 found a box turtle in our alley last week and brought it home to be buddies with our turtle in resident, Sparky. He excitedly told me all about his find (#1 did, not a talking reptile) and said, "it's another male just like Sparky! Go look!" As I proceeded to the courtyard to investigate the new critter, who incidentally brought our non-human eating and pooping population to an even ratio with the humans (wahhhh!!!), my hubs tried to convince the kids to name the thing Curtis.
The instant I walked into our courtyard, I could see that Sparky and the new guy had already become acquainted (somewhat against "Curtis's" will) and were uh...working on building their little family. I returned to the house and reported that Curtis was a girl. Everyone wanted to know what made me the expert on turtle gender, and all I could say was that they were mating, and Sparky had the upper hand. Don't use the word "mating" as a euphemism unless you are hoping the extra 1.4 seconds it takes for you to say it and the kids to ask what it means will buy you enough time to change the subject. The three Kings ran out the door to witness this mating business for themselves, and the conversation went something like this:
#2: She's trying to flip Sparky over! Help him!
me: no no. He's fine. Let's just leave them alone and go inside.
#3: is he ok?
me: yup. He's having the time of his life. Can we go in now?
#1: so are they....
#3: are they what?
me: they're trying to make baby turtles.
#2: are you SURE that's really a girl because it's eyes look just like Sparky's?
me: yup. pretty sure
#3: why are their tails stuck together like that?
You can only sweat so many bullets before they just start exploding is all I can say to you who are still reading at this point.
me: um....well...because to make a baby, the boy's penis goes inside the girl's vagina or whatever a girl turtle has, and that's currently what's going on here (all of this spewed off my tongue at the speed of light, by the way)
#2: so they're married?
Thank you, Pastor Bobby. My children have been paying attention in church :)
#3: but what if it is a boy and those are two penises?
me: then we are about to have more issues to deal with than baby turtles. Who wants ice cream?!
In the end, Curtis was christened Shelly, and my 8 year old daughter informed me that telling her all that information was not age-appropriate. Daily now the children inspect the yard for eggs and tell everyone they can that we have married turtles who are about to have babies. Those things dang well better reproduce because if not, then I will have to explain how more often than not sex is recreational rather than procreational. Before we have that talk, I may have start drinking heavily, and then we may as well find another church altogether that condones alcoholism in mothers. Bobby, I think I have next week's sermon topic picked out for you!
