That Time My Kid Taught Her Cousin About Sex  

Warning: this post may teach you where babies come from, if you don’t already know.

I walk into the trailer, where my two daughters, aged 7 and 5, are playing with their cousins, aged 6 and 4. As soon as I enter, their cheerful chatter stops, which should tip me off that something suspicious is going down. Fortunately, I don’t have to take any time to analyze the situation; Caleb, age 6, is delighted to fill me in.

“Guess what!” he says in his typical delighted-with-mischief tone. “I know how girl babies or boy babies get made! Penny told me!”

“Uh…” I say. I remember how I had recently taken a trip to the science centre with my daughters and how I had used that opportunity to answer any questions they could think of about sex and babies. I had been using the logic that I should teach them all the facts they wanted to hear while they were old enough to understand but too young to be embarrassed. Idiot.

“What did she tell you, exactly?” I ask.

“Don’t tell. Caleb. Don’t tell.” Penny says, looking terrified.

My younger daughter pipes up now. “Mommy! She said – ” She quickly gets cut off by Penny’s strangle-hold/tackle maneuver.

“DON’T SAY IT.” Penny is frantic now.

“Penny, honey,” I say, amused and a bit concerned. “Someone has to tell me. Remember that when I told you about all that stuff about babies and bodies, I also told you that you weren’t allowed to tell your friends about it? It’s a parent’s job to talk to their kids, not yours.”

“But I don’t want them to tell you!”

“I need to know, Penny, so I can tell Auntie Sam what happened.”

“What? No, Mommy, no no no! Please don’t tell her. Please don’t tell Auntie Sam!” She’s crying now, in desperation. But Caleb decides to pipe up anyway.

“She said the boy puts his penis in the girl’s bagina and then stuff comes out and races and whichever one wins the race to the eggs decides if it’s a boy baby or a girl baby!”

Well then.

Me: “Um … wow. Yeah, Penny, I have to tell his mom what you told him, because it’s important that he gets all the information right, okay? That’s all mostly right, which is good, but some important parts are missing. I have to make sure his mom talks to him about how this is grown-up stuff, and how private parts are private, and checks that he knows the proper names of all the parts … plus she has to answer his questions, right?”

Penny is crying now, terrified of the inevitable confrontation with Auntie Sam, and so embarrassed that her inability to keep this exciting information to herself is going to have consequences with grown-ups. Caleb has run off, still giggling with excitement. I start to casually tidy the trailer, changing the subject so Penny can see that I’m not overly concerned, even though I’m not going to change my mind about telling Caleb’s mom what happened.

I needn’t have bothered. About ten seconds later, my sister Samantha appears at the trailer door. Caleb, it seems, had run right straight to his mother and shared his newfound wisdom. “I hear you’ve been chatting in here, Penny!” Her voice is cheerful, but she gives me a look. A serious look look. I sputter my apologies, explaining that I know not every six-year-old knows where babies come from, and that I did tell the girls that it was a parents’ job to teach their own kids about sex.

“You didn’t tell me that!” a panicked Penny screeches from behind a door.

“Penny.” I say. Now I’m giving her a look look.

“Or I forgot.” Penny starts to cry again.

And then, my kind, smart, experienced-parent sister, standing at the door, assesses the situation. She sees my embarrassment and her niece’s panic, and she decides to save the day. She walks over to Penny and looks her in the eye. I start to tell Penny that she should apologize to Auntie Sam, but Sam cuts me off.

“You know what, Penny, you were right to tell Caleb that information. Your Mommy was so smart to tell you, but I had forgotten to tell Caleb. Now you’ve reminded me to make sure I talk to him soon, and I’ll make sure he knows everything he needs to know. Thanks so much.”

And just like that we’re off the hook. Well, Penny and I are, anyway. Samantha, the hero, still has to have a sex talk with a giggly, shameless, six-year-old boy, and based on his response so far, he is going to have a lot of questions and he is not going to be shy about asking them. But at least he knows about how the sperm race for the egg. That’s important.

This post has been published anonymously to protect me, its writer, from being caught by my daughter who would be mortified if she found out I told anyone about this. That’s also why the names have been changed, although the name Penny is really starting to grow on me.