The Talk

When my grandson, Zac, was about 10 years old, he and I were having a quiet evening at home when he turned to me out of the blue and said “Nana, do you know what sex you are?”
‘YIKES!’ I thought ‘He wants to have The Talk!’

Immediately my mind began to race, trying to come up with a way to avoid this conversation. It’s a known fact, in our family, that if you give a kid money, he will shut up and go away – but all I had was a $20! There had to be another solution. I remembered when the day came for my Mom to have The Talk with me – only she didn’t say a word, she just handed me a little booklet with something about flowers blooming in the spring. To this day, I have no clue what that meant…. When my own sons were old enough, I took each one aside individually and calmly told them the truth. I would say “Son, sex kills. Avoid women at all costs for as long as possible!” (Needless to say, 12 grandkids later, that dog didn’t hunt!) Zac’s persistent little voice broke in on my thoughts and jerked me back to the present crisis.
“Nana – do you know what sex you are or not?” With a sigh of resignation I reached for my wallet.
“Yes, I do. I’m a female.” (Please, let him drop it! Please, let him drop it ...)
Zac stuck his little chest out proudly and gave it a resounding thump. “Well, I’m a male!” he proclaimed.
We sat there in silence for a moment, while cold sweat tricked down the back of my shirt. After what seemed like an eternity (about 30 seconds) I turned to Zac and asked “Did you want to say anything else about the subject?”
“Naw.” He picked up the remote. “We have been learning about stuff like that .. Oh! Wait!” He turned to me excitedly. “Do you know how babies are made?! A boy finds a girl he really likes, see and then they – “
“Whoa! Twenty dollars! Thanks, Nana!”