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The Birds and Bees are Out to Get Me

The Birds and Bees are Out to Get Me

Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2008

“Sure, I’d be glad to help you with your homework, Honey.”

“Where do what come from?!”

“You’re 12. Why do you want to know about that?”

“Why aren’t you interested in dolls instead?”

“What about Penny?”

“Eight years? Are you sure?”

“Why do you even need to know this?”

“They’re teaching that in school now?”

“Can’t you ask your mother?”

“I know she’s visiting Grandma for a few days. Can’t you wait until she gets back?”

“Why did you wait until the last night to do this?”

“We need to work on your time management skills. Do you want me to start teaching you some tricks I learned?”

“Until bedtime.”

“Oh jeez. Why did she have to leave now? I can’t do this.”

“No, I’m just talking to myself.”

“Okay, look. . .”

“All right, it starts with. . .”

“Okay. First there’s a . . .”

“No, how about this: When a man and a woman love each other very much – look, I can’t do this. You need to ask your mother.”

“Can’t you call her?”

“Maybe her phone is off.”

“Gaah! You can’t leave that as a voice mail. Why did you leave her a voice mail?”

“Don’t ask questions like that on voice mail. What if she was driving when she heard it?”

“Well, just because.”

“Hi Sweetie, what do you want?”

“Uhh, we can’t talk right now.”

“Well, I have to help your sister with her homework.”

“NO! Er, I mean, no you can’t stay here. Why don’t you play with your brother?”

“I’m not nervous about anything.”

“My face is always this red.”

“It’s a sunburn.”

“Yes, in October.”

“Yes, at night.”

“My voice isn’t -- ahem, my voice isn’t that high.”

“Hey Buddy, what do you want?”

“I’m trying to get her to play with you.”

“She’s doing her homework. She can’t play yet.”

“No, you can’t help with this homework.”

“Not until you’re 13 or so.”

“Because it’s. . . well, it’s hard to explain.”

“No, it’s not math!”

“I am too good at math.”

“I don’t care what Mommy says. It’s just not my best subject.”

“Because she’s better at finances than I am.”

“No, we would not be in the poor house if I handled the checkbook. Who told you that?”

“Then it’s a good thing she’s visiting Grandma.”

“Why don’t you kids go play.”

“Not here. In your room.”

“Turn on the radio.”

“Louder.”

“Louder!”

“Can you hear me?”

“I said, can you hear me?!”

“Good, now stay in there.”

“I said stay in there!”

“When my heart recovers.”

“When my – never mind!”

“Okay Sweetie, where were – what are you doing?”

“NO! I mean, please don’t look for baby information on the Internet.

“Because, uhh. . . they won’t have it.”

“I know. You’d think someone would have put it on a website or something, but they just don’t talk about that kind of thing online.”

“Oh, politics, music, and uh, cooking recipes.”

“No, you can’t check.”

“Because they turn the Internet off after 5:00.”

“What are you doing now?”

“Please don’t text that.”

“Especially to your friends!”

“Don’t they have to do the same report?”

“Well, then it’s cheating. You should do your own work.”

“Gaah! What was that?”

“I must have had it on vibrate. Hold on. Hello?”

“Oh man, am I glad you called.”

“Our daughter wants to know where babies come from.”

“Because that’s the conversation you swore you would have with her.”

“When we got married.”

“Yeah, ‘oh that.’”

“So, are you going to tell her?”

“I told her not to leave a voice mail message for you.”

“Because that’s not a voice mail conversation. It’s like texting someone to break up with them. You don’t just have the facts of life conversation over voice mail.”

“No, I’m not going to let her use the Internet.”

“I told her they turned it off after 5:00.”

“E-shay is anding-stay ight-ray ere-hay.”

“When did you learn Pig Latin, Sweetie?”

“No, don’t hang up.”

“But what about—”

“It’s not a simple answer.”

“No you just don’t—”

“What?”

“‘Uterus?!’”

“That’s it?”

“What do you mean, no big deal?”

“I just – but what about – okay, good-bye.”

“Well, apparently the answer is ‘uterus.’”

“What do you mean, ‘oh, okay?’ It’s not okay.”

“Because my heart can’t take much more of this.”

“I thought you wanted to know. . . about. . . stuff.”

“Worksheet? This is for a worksheet? I thought it was a friggin’ report!”

“Quit giggling.”

“You’re having The Talk with your mother when she gets back!”

“I’ll let her know.”

“I’ll leave her a voice mail.”

---
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Comments

  1. Our 10-year-old son started asking entirely too specific questions and my wife asked me to have "the talk" with him.

    I was entirely frank with him.

    When he left the room, mom caught sight of his dazed look. She asked how it went and he replied it much more than he was expecting.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I'm still laughing.... :) Poor, poor Erik...

    ReplyDelete
  3. Fortunately this wasn't a real incident. I think my wife has had parts of The Talk with my daughter, so she at least understands there's some "stuff" that happens to make a baby.

    It helps that we homeschool our kids so their friends aren't raising all sorts of embarrassing (for us) issues they want answers to.

    ReplyDelete

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