So, to add insult to injury, or to rub salt in my wounds, or to make my molehill into a mountain, or whatever...my daughter decided she would not be outdone my her brother's belief that I do not know how to 'work'.

Background:  9 year old Shekinah would be completely peer-oriented if I let her - she is forever (and ever, and ever, and ever!) asking if she can have a friend over to visit or if she can go visit a friend, or what not.  I allow friends to come play and I allow the kids to go to other people's houses when it's appropriate.  But, the busier I get the harder it is to want to have others milling about the house, so I am often saying no or putting it off to another day.

On this day, Shekinah was yet again pestering me to help her arrange a playdate.  Our conversation went something like this:

Mom:  "Sit down, it's time to do this math work."

Shekinah:  "Can I have a friend over?"

Mom:   "I am not discussing that now.  We are doing math."

Shekinah:  "But I want a friend over."

Mom:  "Not now, Kine!"

Shekinah:  "Please!  [insert whine]  I just wanna have a friend over!  I wanna have a friend over, I wanna have a friend over!"

Mom:  "Did you fold the laundry?"

Shekinah:  "No."

Mom:  "Hear we sit, at math time, and all you can do is whine and complain about wanting to have a friend over and you haven't even folded the laundry yet?"

Shekinah: "Well, I will if I can have a friend over."

Mom:  sarcastic laughter

Shekinah:  "What?"

Mom:  "Life is not about friends!!!  I would LOVE to just while away my days visiting my friends, having tea, and chit chatting with them!  But I can't do that!"

Shekinah:  "I know. You don't have any friends."

Mom:  hysterical laughter   "That's just the point!  I don't have the bloomin' time to devote to friendships!"

Shekinah:  "Well, you don't need friends.  You're a mom."

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That rendered me speechless.  Poor child...she actually brought me to tears at that point.  I wavered between hysterical laughter and mournful tears, and she just didn't know what to do with me! 

So, not only do I not know how to work, but I also do not need friends.   What's next?

What follows is an accounting of my life.

True, it is only one very small incident in one ordinary day, but if you take it and apply it to each and every moment of my day, each and every day of the week, week of the month, month of the year...you will completely understand how it is totally representative of my entire life.

The Chicken Caper:

It was Thursday.  Thursday is normally the day Kg stays home ALL.  DAY.  LONG.  Kg does not normally go out on Thursday.  Matter-of-fact, Kg has made it a life-long purpose to ensure that all friends, family, neighbours, members of the community, and any one else who so happens to live on planet earth, are aware that not only does she not leave the house on a Thursday, she does not even bother to get dressed on a Thursday.

This is true.  So true, in fact, that her closest friends and coworkers, if they simply cannot avoid telephoning her on a Thursday, are known to start conversations and leave messages with, "Hi, Kg.  Sorry to bother you...I KNOW it's Thursday...but..."

So.  It was Thursday.  Kg had made a terrible scheduling error and she realized that she would indeed need to leave the house that day.  Not only that, but she had invited a friend and hrt children to come over to play that afternoon.   So, not only did Kg have to leave the house on a Thursday, but she also needed to ENTERTAIN at her home on that day.  Thursday.

WHAT was she thinking?!?

Now, not only would she actually have to dress on a Thursday, but, as she was going to attend a homeschooling meeting later that night and didn't want all the newcomers to loose heart at her skanky, unkempt appearance, she also realized that she would have to shower and do her hair.  On a Thursday. 

But, Kg is a smart woman.  She can handle this.  She will PLAN.  She will plan to feed her kids lunch at 12:30 instead of 1:00 like they normally do.  She will plan to cook, for lunch, the now-thawed-chicken-breasts-which-will-have-to-be-thrown-out-if-you-don't-cook-them-today.  She will plan to give her children a lunch meal that they would normally consider a dinner meal, so that she doesn't have to buy them a big meal on the way to the homeschooling meeting. She will plan to inform her children of the strange meal circumstances, in the hopes that they don't fuss.  She will plan to get everything prepared, so that once her guests leave, she can tidy up, do a bit a work, and the just leave. She will PLAN.

She no longer remembers exactly WHAT stole all her time that morning, but at one point she discovered that it was 12:00 and she still had to prepare her dinner-which is-actually-lunch.  And, she still has not had her shower.  She must cook, shower, do her hair, dress, and eat (not to mention frantically try to straighten up parts of the house that she has here-to-fore failed to notice needed straightening up).  So, she lays the chicken breasts on baking sheet, coats them in bbq sauce and puts them in the oven.  Then she puts a few potatoes in the nuker to cook.  Then she runs upstairs, instructing her oldest child to take the chicken out of the oven when the timer goes off.

Stripping off her clothes, Kg jumps in the shower.  Goes through all the motions - including creating several hair bugs - and then she gets out and dries off.  Putting a towel around her head and a robe around her body, she then heads downstairs to see what is happening with the food.  Her son is just taking the nearly-but-not-quite burnt chicken out of the oven.  The potatoes are fully nuked.   She quickly heats up some canned corn, and places the chicken, the potatoes, and the corn on top of the stove.  It is now about 12:45pm.  Kg is running out of time, so she heads back up stairs and along the way, she yells to all three kids, where ever they are in the house:  "Lunch is ready!  It's on the stove!  Get a plate and help yourself!"

And just for good measure, she adds:  "And you better eat all your lunch or else you will not have any treats when so and so and here!"  Never mind about the possibility of idle threats - there are other things to worry about.

Hearing the kids make their way to the kitchen, she assures herself that all is well.  She chooses to ignore the grumblings she hears about the lunch menu in favour of concentrating on doing her hair so that it didn't dry funny.   In the process of drying her hair, Kg hears her youngest son, 7 year old Daniel, coming up the stairs.  She stops the blow dryer and calls to him.  She asks if he ate his lunch and he answers in the positive.  But, Kg knows this child!  And she knows that he was the one who gumbled the loudest at the daily special.  So, deciding to trust his word, she asks, "How MUCH did you eat?" but before he can answer, and because her time is running out, she has a brain storm...so she commands:  "Bring me your plate!".

Daniels looks a little pained, but while Kg resumes blow drying her hair, he runs downstairs to retrieve his plate.  Upon his return, Kg again turns off the blow dryer to converse with her son.  He shows her the plate.  On it are the remnants of nukified potato - he'd only eaten about 1/4 of it.  And that is all that is there.  "Where is the chicken?"  She asks.

Daniel:  "I ate it."

Kg:  "How much did you eat?"

Daniel:  "All of it."

Kg:  "How much is 'all of it'?"

Daniel:  "Almost the whole thing."

Kg:  "How much is 'almost the whole thing.?"

Daniel:  "As much as I am supposed to."

Kg:  "You are supposed to eat all of it."

Daniel:  "I did."

Kg:  "But, how come there are no bits of it on the plate?"

Daniel:  "Cause I threw out the rest of it."

Kg:  "How much did you throw out."

Daniel:  "Just a little teeny piece."

Kg:  "What do you mean by a little teeny piece?  Like the size of a quarter, or of a loonie, or of a cookie?"

Daniel:  "Yeah."

Kg:  "Daniel, you were supposed to eat all of your chicken because this was really dinner and I don't want to buy you a big meal in town!"

Daniel:  "But, I don't like it."

By now Kg's hair is beginning to dry in ways that are very unattractive to her.  She realizes that she MUST turn on the blow dryer to salvage what she can - for the good of the new homeschoolers!  She realizes that she cannot continue to have this conversation, so in a flash she says:  "Go get it."

Daniel:  "What?"

Kg:  "The chicken."

Daniel:  "But, it's in the garbage!"

Kg:  "So?!?  You were supposed to eat it all!  Go and get it!"

Daniel:  "You want me to look through the garbage for the piece of chicken I threw out?"

Kg:  "Yes!"  At that point, Kg turns back to the mirror, turns on the blow dryer - again - and continues with her hair.

Within moments, Daniel is back.  "I couldn't find it."

Kg:  "You couldn't find it?"

Daniel:  "No.  It must be way down at the bottom."

Kg:  "Fine.  Bring me the garbage."

Daniel:  "Bring you the garbage?"

Kg:  "Yes.  Bring me the garbage!"

Daniel:  "Why?"

Kg:  "Because I'm going to find your lost piece of chicken, then I'm going to rinse it off, and then I'm going to make you eat it!  And if you don't want it because you are not hungry, I will wrap it up for you so that you can take it into town with us and eat it when you ARE hungry."

Daniel stands there in complete silence.

Kg:  "Go!"

Once again, Kg, turns the blow dryer back on and tries to get her hair to behave.  As she is doing so, she thinks about what she has just threatened her son with, and she has a day-mare about someone finding out that she made her son eat dirty chicken and they tell Children's Aid about it and she looses all her kids.

Soon, Daniel has returned.  He has the kitchen garbage.  Kg, once again, turns off the blow dryer and sets it down.  She looks into the garbage.  Under a few small layers, there lay the chicken.  Gingerly, she picks it out.  Two pieces.  Put together, they amount to almost the whole piece that he started with.  Now she is in a pickle.  She has told him that he would have to eat it.  But Children's Aid could find out.  So, she back pedals:  "Daniel, I really should make you eat this, but that would be unsanitary."

Daniel:  "Yeah."

Kg:  "What is our family rule about what the kids are supposed to do if they do not like the food that I serve?"

Daniel:  "Peanut butter sandwich."

Kg:  "Right.  So, why didn't you just wrap up the chicken and make yourself a p.b. sandwich?"

Daniel:  "Dunno."

Kg:  "So, you have lied to me.  You have broken the family rule.  You have wasted good food.  And you have wasted my time and stressed me out!"

Daniel:  "Uh-huh."

Kg:  "So.  You cannot eat 'garbage chicken'.  But, because you lied, you cannot have any treats when the guests are here.  Do you understand."

Daniel:  "Ya."

Kg:  "That means when I am serving cookies, you will not be allowed any.  Do you understand?

Daniel:  "Yeah."

Kg:  "What WILL you eat when you are hungry and the kids are all having cookies?"

Daniel:  "Peanut Butter Sandwich?"

Kg:  "Right."

And so ends the chicken caper, as Kg comes to the realization that if she only just stuck with the lunch menu of peanut butter sandwiches, none of this would have happened.

 I like to be warm.  I do not like to be cold.  My house is often cold.  In order to be warm, I have been known to wear three or four layers of sweaters and when that is not enough, I have been known to grab a fleece blanket, throw it over my shoulders, knot it in front of my chest and carry on. 

You'd be amazed at what a person can do with a blanket tied to them.  No, I do not mean pretend to be a superhero!  I mean things like cook, clean, homeschool, type, surf...you know...all the kinds of things a person prefers to do warm.

I know what you are thinking, "Why doesn't she just turn up the heat?"  Well, you see, we heat with a woodstove.  We keep the wood for the stove outside.  In order to get the wood to start a fire in the woodstove I would have to GO outside.  It is cold outside.  I like to be warm.

Makes sense to me.

Besides, fires are my dh's job.  He doesn't agree with this fact, but that is not the point.  He also does not understand about air pockets.  How anyone cannot be bothered to the point of insanity by an air pocket is beyond me...but, hey, lots of things he does are beyond me!

Okay, just in case you are not on par here, I will explain:  Remember how dh and I do not sleep in the same bed (see my post below if you are clueless about this)?  Besides snoring, I neglected to mention earlier that one of the reasons for our noctunal separation is because dh does not honour the hard and fast rules of:  

1.)  Do not move around while sleeping;

2.)  Do not pull on the blanket during the night;

3.)  Do not, under ANY circumstances allow the blanket, at any time during the night, to be unevenly distributed on the bed.  After all, I do not walk around the bed several times before getting in, adjusting the blanket hem-to-floor ratio, for nothing;

4.)  Do not move the blanket from directly under my chin;

5.)  Above all, do not EVER create any air pockets!

Air pockets are what happen in the bed when an occupant (dh) rolls over or moves around or pulls or stretches or what not, causing said occupant to move the blanket away from the cocoon it created around my nicely warmed body, which opens a space in the blanket and allows air to rush in.  Air pocket.

I simply cannot tolerate air pockets.

Recently, I was chewing a piece of bubble gum.  A teeny tiny piece of it was stuck on the roof of my mouth towards the back, and I kept coughing and clearing my throat in an effort to get the miniscule piece out.

Bubble gum is not what it used to be!  My husband and I were having a conversation about how different this particular brand of bubble gum was when we were kids - about twice as much in each piece, it was soft and easy to chew, and the flavour lasted for a what seemed a Very Long Time.  During this convo, the bubble gum in my mouth began to stick to my teeth and it became harder to chew and flavourless.  So, I picked it out of my mouth, as I as did so, a long, fine string of it stuck to one of my teeth and stretched about 12 inches between my mouth and the ball of gum in my hand.  My dh said, "gross!!" and my dc laughed at me.  Humph!

After picking the stray strand out of my teeth, I turned to my family and said, "Darn.  Now I am going to have my Bad Bubble Gum Dream."  They all expressed surprise and confusion as to what I meant.  So I asked, "Have I not told you about my recurring Bad Bubble Gum Dream?"  And they all, dh included, remarked that they knew nothing about it.

So, I told them all about how from time to time I have this recurring dream where I have a huge wad of bubble gum in my mouth.  I am chewing it happily and blowing huge bubbles and generally having a good time.  But, soon, the bubble gum begins to stick to my teeth and to the roof of my mouth, and it starts to make me gag.  So, I go to take it out of my mouth to dispose of it, but it won't budge.  It seems to have multiplied inside my mouth and I begin to panic as my airway is starting to be cut off.  Desperate, I pull at the bubble gum and manage to get a thick strand of it loose.  I pull and pull and pull, and more and more of it comes out and into the garbage, but it's never enough!  For every inch of bubble gum that I pull out, more seems to grow.  The wad in my mouth is never depleted and I have to stand over the garbage can, mouth wide open as I pull out yards and yard of bubble gum!!

Then I wake up.

The dream never ends, and I NEVER get to the point where my mouth is free from bubble gum.  I always wake up before it's out. I wonder if that is why I keep having the dream, because I want to get to the place where I am free from it?

Personally, I think this dream is really not about bubble gum at all, but about loss of control.  I think I have this dream mostly when I am feeling stressed about things in my life that I don't feel settle about.  Also, when I was a teen, my mother suffered from terrible phobias and one of those was the fear of choking - I don't have and have never had these fears, but I think my experiences with my mother have stuck in my subconscious and that is why Bad Bubble Gum is my brain's way of expresssing loss of control.

Turns out, that night I did NOT have my Bad Bubble Gum dream.  Who wants gum?!?

I know how much you all enjoyed my "Bible Instructions for S*x" post...so, I thought I'd give you a bit more on that topic.

First, the lowdown:  Dh and I do not sleep in the same bed.  Never have...well...okay we did for the first 1.5 years of our marriage but that doesn't count 'cause it's not like we actually slept.                    

What?!?

Anyway, currently, we live in a four bedroom house and our sleeping arrangments look like this: 

Mommy sleeps in Mommy and Daddy's bedroom.  Mommy used to sleep in Daniel's bedroom with Daniel, but that was before Daniel was weaned.  After that Mommy slept in Daniel's room without Daniel as Daniel was moved elsewhere.  Then, Daddy decided that he wanted to sleep in Daniel's room so Mommy and Daddy traded sleeping quarters.

Daddy sleeps in Daniel's bedroom.   Daddy used to sleep in Mommy and Daddy's bedroom (without Mommy, but often with one child or other especially if child was sick because Mommy and Daddy both realized that Daddy was much nicer in the morning than Mommy was after having to get up a hundred times in the night to help a sickie).  But, Daddy wanted Daniel's bed because Daniel's bed was much more comfortable than Mommy and Daddy's bed, and Mommy was flexible, so they switched.

Daniel sleeps in the bottom bunk in Timothy's bedroom.  He used to sleep with Mommy in his own bed in his very own bedroom, but that all changed after he finally weaned (at 3.5 - but that was 3.5 years ago and now it seems like ancient history).  You see, once Daniel was no longer nursing, Mommy didn't think she should have to have someone in bed with her anymore, so she kicked poor Daniel out of his own bed and into his sister's bed.  She has a nice double, and was happy to share.  And for the most part, Daniel was happy with Shekinah, too, except when he wanted to be with Timothy.  So, for a while he actually got to switch every other night:  One night with Kine, and the other in the bottom bunk in Tim's room.  Tim was happy with that...only having to put up with his little bro half the time, that is!  But, then Shekinah grew up...she's nine now!  And Mommy and Daddy said Daniel had to sleep by himself as Shekinah was too old to be sleeping with her brother.  So he got kicked out again, poor kid!  And now he sleeps in Tim's room (bottom bunk) all the time.  But, he doesn't like it there and wants out.  More on that later.

Timothy sleeps in the top bunk in Timothy's bedroom.  Unless he is sick and barfing.  Then he ends up in Mommy's bed or Daddy's bed, but nobody sleeps, believe me.  Or, unless he can convince Mommy to let him build a fort or something cool for the kids to sleep in.  But nobody actually sleeps then, either...

Shekinah?  Oh, she sleeps in her own room all of the time.  Unless she is sick and barfing.

So, Daniel has decided that he doesn't like sleeping in the bottom bunk anymore and when we were discussing this together as a family, trying to come up with a solution (it seems we are all now set in our ways and nobody's willing to move.  What changed?!), Timothy said, "Everything was so much easier when you and Daddy slept together, Mom!"

And Mommy said:  "We've never slept together."

Tim:  "Yeah, you have.  You used to!"

Mom:  "Uh, no.  Not since I was 5 months preggo with you, kiddo!"

Tim:  "No."

Mom:  "Yes."

Tim:  "No!"

Mom:  "Yes!"

Tim:  "No, Mom."  (Tim gives his mother the evil eye.)  "You and Daddy used to sleep together!"

Mom:  "Yeah, but not since Duplex Aveue.   Not since I was five months preggers with you."

Tim:  "Don't you mean 5 months pregnant with Daniel?!?"

Mom:  "No.  With you."

Tim:  "No...(Tim looks at Mom as if she is really stupid)...with Daniel.  You know!"

Mom:  "No...oh..."

Tim:  "Yeah!"

Mom:  "Heheheheheheh....blush, laugh, blush...hehehehehe

Tim:  "Hehehehehehe...blush, laugh, blush, snicker, blush...hehehehe"

Shekinah:  "Wha-at?!?"

Mom:  "Uh, Tim....people don't need a bed...or that bed..."

Tim:  "Eh?

Shekinah:  "Oh!"

Dad:  "THAT WILL BE ENOUGH!"

So, you see.  Tim is at it again.  Time to break out "the book" and have another conversation.  Man, the things we do as parents!

You know, it never ceases to amaze me how we all make opinions about stuff based solely on how it affects us personally.  Most of us human people (aliens not withstanding) simply CANNOT or simply REFUSE not to see the perspective of the common good or the greater good or even just what ever good might be had if we could just get over ourselves.

Yes, if you suspected that this post is in relation to the recent UPROAR over the changes on the Sonlight forums...ding, ding, ding!!!!  You are correct, it is.

Sure, I'm bugged about it.  Annoyed that I didn't get a freebie and likely won't have as many badges as I should because I have decided to piece-meal - being a Canadian does change who I order from based on ease, taxes, and duty.  But, how I feel about it not Sonlight's problem.

Sonlight owes us nothing.  They can do what they want and what they deem in the best interest of their company and of the current customers.  I think we all need to just get over ourselves, and stop seeing things from the perspective of me, myself, and I.

IMHO!!!!

My 11 yo son has an addiction and a dirty habit.

It's true!  And it's totally disgusting and unneccesary...expensive and intrusive.

He engages in his addiction several times a week and at times everyday.  Even several times per day when things get really bad.

As parents, we find we are constantly replenshing from his consumption...and then we find his used up, wasted product EVERYWHERE.  He tries to hide the evidence, but we always find it!  We find it smashed into a corner on the stairs, taped to the bathroom counter, under the rugs, half in/half out of the garbage, on books, in bins, in kitchen cupboards for heavens sake!!!

We find the packaging, we find unspoiled product, we find clean but used product, and we find soiled product.  We find it all.  Everywhere.

Bandaids!

Please help us!  Is it possible to go Bandaid free?  Have you done it?  How, why, where?  And how did you mend boo boos once you became Bandaid free?

'sokay...I get my revenge...after all, is there anything more joyous than ripping a two-weeks-stuck bandaid off a terrified child?!? 

It's been quite some time since I've been on HSB and too long since I blogged.  I thought ya'll must be thinking that I'd fallen off the face of the earth...so, I thought I would come on and tell you all that I didn't fall off the face of the earth - until I realized that it sure seems like I did!  Either that, or I've been hit by a freight train.

Or, maybe it is simply a case of TOO MUCH GOING ON.  You decide.

So, in the midst of my busy life, my rotten kids decide to go and get sick.  How dare they?  Of all things...sick kids!  Ick!!

First, it was Shekinah.  Woke up on a Friday morning with a sore tummy.  Kept whining and complaining to an unsypathetic mommy (who me?) who thought she was just hungry or had to visit the toity.  Then she barfed.  Why is it that when our kids barf we suddenly feel such guilt as we realize they WEREN'T just whining and complaining, but they were actually SICK?

Anyway, Kine is such a sweet sicky.  She was easy!  Just vomit in the bowl, hand the bowl to mom, dutifully drink water, o.j., and tea...barf again...keep it up.  No crying, no complaining, happy to watch t.v.  She was well enough the next morning to have a friend over, but felt queasy in the afternoon so she rested.  Sunday?  All gone!

Except.

Daniel woke up on Sunday morning complaining of a sore tummy.  Uh oh.  This time, I WAS sympathetic and went into nurse-maid mode much easier.  Daniel is not a happy sick dude.  He's an awful sick dude!  Crying, whining, complaining, screeching, fear of vomitting, not wanting to be alone for even a minute - and the poor kid had to miss a birthday party that day! 

Not only does Daniel "do" sickness is a worse way they Kine, he actually gets a lot sicker!  Barfs at least twice as much!!  At one point, it was every 20 minutes on schedule!  And his whole body heaves when he vomits, it just racks 'im.  Then, he won't drink ANYTHING or take any pain meds or do anything the would help him feel better.  He is the only child with whom I have to resort to using suppositories.  Ick.  Who signed me up for this job?

He was better by Tuesday, mostly, but still wasn't 100% and wasn't eating his usual.  Figured if Timothy was gonna get it, Tuesday would be the day.  Nope.  Passed.

Wednesday - passed.

Thursday - clear.

Till midnight, that is.  That's when he woke up, felt dizzy and nauseous, and scrambled out of bed and down the stairs just in time to grab a bowl.  Literally, out of the cupboard and into the bowl!  Ick.  Luckily, Dad was still up and was able to help.  He took Timothy to bed and prepared to spend the night with him...but they didn't sleep - Tim was on a 30 minute barf schedule.  Fun...takes the average person 20 minutes to fall asleep, so you can imagine how much fun it is to JUST fall asleep only be woken up by retching.  Double ick.

Poor kid.  Poor Dad.  At 3:00pm all the commotion woke me up, so I got the extreme priviledge of taking a shift with yet another sicky.  And this one was the worst!!!  The poor kid barfed every 30 minutes all night long!  Then, during the day, it was somewhat less often and by night fall he wasn't barfing any longer.  No, instead he was crying because his head hurt so much.  Even Jr. Motrin didn't help his headache...only sleep could do that.  Finally, he slept (as did we...a whole day late!), and by Saturday, he was up to 90%.

Pray that it is done and that dh doesn't get it...I could not handle a sick hubby after all that!

Did that catch your attention?  Bet it did!!!

Seriously, we are reading through What's the Big Deal - Why God Cares About S*x with our 11 yo ds. 

Poor kid!  We are doing a chapter or two every day or so, and after dinner when I snicker and tell him "time to read THE book", he groans and tries to run and hide.  I wonder why?

Seriously, it's been going well, and he, I, and his Dad have had some great conversations.  Till yesterday.  We were reading and I stopped for a moment, suddenly feeling the need to tell him that God feels VERY STRONGLY about s*x, so much so that He has written lots of instructions in the Bible about s*x.

Poor kid!  He got this deer-in-the-headlights look and you could see him trying to make sense of that.  He asked "but why have you never read those parts?"  And I told him I HAD read them, I just "softened the words a little."

That didn't help.  He looked even more confused.  That's when dh started laughing!  Then dh said "not THOSE kind of instructions!  Not 'how' to do it and where to put stuff!'

Hahahahahahaha....then we all laughed!  Turns out ds was thinking that exact thing!  When I told him that God put instructions in the Bible for s*x, he thought I meant something along the lines of "Take off your clothes.  Lie down in the bed.  Touch.  Put your bleep bleep in her beep beep.  Be done."

Oh, man!  WE ARE NEVER GOING TO LET HIM LIVE THAT DOWN!!  Imagine the fun we're gonna have!

Hey, come on now...fair is fair.  After all, this IS the child who was shocked and amazed when we read book #2 in the same series...you know the book that actually SAYS "and the man puts his bleep bleep into the woman's beep beep."  Poor kid, he laughed and laughed and laughed. 

We thought he was laughing because he was nervous or thought the whole 'transaction' to be funny.  Turn out that he was RELIEVED because before reading that, he'd thought that the man just spilled his spermies out on to the floor and the woman crawled around crab-style as her beep beep tried to "vacuum" them up of the floor.

Seriously!!!!  Needless to say, 'twas dh and I that were laughing after hearing that!

It's been very interesting how each of my kids have had a VERY different reaction to hearing about the technical aspect of what s*x is.  11 yo ds who was then 8, laughed and laughed...9 yo dd (then 7) was dumbfounded,  not having had ANY idea...and recently, almost 7 yo ds went "Oooooooooo!!!!!  That's GROSS!!!!!!!!!!!!  GROSS, GROSS, GROSS!!! That's gross!!!!!!!!

I thought...hmmmm...how long can we keep him thinking that?