A Recipe for Disaster

We were driving.  Houses blurring together outside of the window.  I was listening to a podcast about shaming people into doing what's right.  Freakonomics podcast.  I highly recommend it.  That's when it happened. 

"Mom, what's sex?"

My 7 year-old's voice sounds from the backseat.  Ah here we go.  I've been prepping for this day since she was born.  Determined to give her the information she needs without being embarrassed or ashamed of the topic.  Play it cool, Denise.  Play it cool. 

"Well, what do you think it is?" I ask.

"Hot." 

"What?" I ask.

"I think sex means hot." 

"I think you're thinking of the word sexy," I correct.

"Yeah it means a cute boy."

I wanted to leave it at that but Ava continues, "But what does sex mean?"

I guess we're doing this.  "Well, uh you know how boys and girls are different?"

"Yeah."

"Well what ways are we different?"

A long pause..."Boys have short hair."

"Yes, that's true.  Most do.  But what makes a boy different from a girl?"

"Boys don't have boobs."

"No they don't.  And they have different looking bums," I say resisting the urge to distract her with a trip to Baskin Robins and never speaking of this again. 

"Uh-huh," Ava agrees. 

I decide to change course.  "Well it's like...it's like a recipe."  Ava laughs.

"A recipe?" she asks incredulously. 

"Yeah.  Girls have an ingredient like flour.  And Boys have an ingredient like sugar.  And when you put them together it makes a baby."

I study Ava's confused face in the rear view mirror.  Clearly I'm making little sense.  Inside her mind she's seeing Brig and I in aprons in the kitchen baking up a batch of baby. 

"Girls have eggs.  We're all born with them and they won't come out until you start having your period."

"I have scrambled eggs inside me?!" Ava yells looking terrified. 

"No, no, no.  They aren't scrambled eggs.  You can't even see them they're so tiny.  Anyway, we have eggs and boys have something else and when you put them together a baby grows in your tummy," I say, sweat beads forming along my hairline. 

"I still don't get it.  Is that sex?"

"No.  I guess not.  It's like when you really love someone and you want to show them how much you love them.  You hug and kiss.  You only do it with your husband and it's a private thing.  You'll hear things on tv about it but that's not how it really is,"  I say lamely. 

"Like the one time I walked into your room and you and dad were kissing naked?" she asks, adding, "That was weird." 

I stare at her in the rear view mirror.  It's like a game of chicken.  Of course we've talked about this incident before but I've never named what it was she saw, only that it's what mommy and daddy do when they love each other. 

"Well, yes.  But it's nothing to be embarrassed about," I say trying to convince myself as well. 

"Oh."

I sit there hoping the conversation is done.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Can we go get a shake at Arctic Circle?"

I exhale.  "Sure, sweetie."