Bl**dy Men
Or rather more specifically, one bloody man.
Husband has blogged a very short but completely true conversation from last night. Do NOT ask me how my Aspie Son's mind graduated from the torments of true love, via the intricacies of Star Wars on his Gameboy, to the potential pleasures and dangers of masturbation. It just did. This is the kid who looked up from playing 007 over Christmas to thoughtfully comment that "James Bond, he's a bit of a sex pest really, isn't he?"
Apparently wooing a girl in every port is amoral, in Son's world. Its not enough of an issue to stop playing the game; just an observation, so it seems I have a deep, romantic little soul here, with an inbuilt tendency toward (at least serial) monogamy.
Anyway, here's the latest as reported by Husband (the evil swine):
This is mostly true. Daughter also screamed that she hated both of them, wailed all the way to the other end of the house then wailed her way back to just outside the living room door, to a position suited to shouting sobbing protestations from a safe distance. Scarlett O'Hara, eat your heart out. I was cracking up. My ribs hurt.
Husband in sweet, helpful voice: Oh, darling, its not true, and look, mummy's crying too! (I was, sort of)
Daughter, enraged: She's not! She's bloody laughing! Waaaah!
She lamented her way up the house again but slowly came back. Once I had her by my side to talk to, this is how it went:
Me: Darling, rotten daddy was just winding Son up. Do you know what wank means?
Daughter stares blankly
Me: It means playing with your private tickly bits.
Daughter stays wide eyed
Me: And sometimes when boys are growing up, they wake up in the morning and their willy sticks out and feels even more tickly, and then sometimes they play with it.
Daughter (with a big smile like she's got the point): Oh! Daddy does that!
Me: Eh? What? When?
Daughter: You know, when he's lying on the sofa with the telly button (does action of one hand clicking button, other hand defensively clasping crotch)
Me: Oh that! No, thats a bit rude, but wanking usually involves going into your pants and getting it out so you can tug on it properly. Its private.
I have to say that there was more to the earlier discussion, specifically I had remarked that fiddling about can only make little boys go blind if they poke their own eyes afterward before washing their hands. Because of this, Daughter led our current conversation on to wonder, in hushed and gossipy tones, whether her brother had washed his hands recently.
She then forgot all about her lost (and presumably deceased) kitten and skipped off happily (smugly, even), pausing only to eye her brother up and down and point at him in a "haha you're mucky and rude!" kind of a way.
Kids.
Husband has blogged a very short but completely true conversation from last night. Do NOT ask me how my Aspie Son's mind graduated from the torments of true love, via the intricacies of Star Wars on his Gameboy, to the potential pleasures and dangers of masturbation. It just did. This is the kid who looked up from playing 007 over Christmas to thoughtfully comment that "James Bond, he's a bit of a sex pest really, isn't he?"
Apparently wooing a girl in every port is amoral, in Son's world. Its not enough of an issue to stop playing the game; just an observation, so it seems I have a deep, romantic little soul here, with an inbuilt tendency toward (at least serial) monogamy.
Anyway, here's the latest as reported by Husband (the evil swine):
This evening my 11 year old come out with a classic…..
Sitting playing his X-box he looks up at me blogging and the conversation proceeds as follows.
SON “Dad if you wank can it kill you”?
After picking myself off the floor…….
ME “it will make you go blind”…..
SON “Your joking”.
ME “Look at me I have to wear glasses”
SON “ No honestly can it harm you”?
ME “ Every time you do it God kills a kitten”!
Daughter (9) screams “it was you that killed my kitten”! to her brother running crying from the room….
Taken ten minutes to calm her down and apologise.
This is mostly true. Daughter also screamed that she hated both of them, wailed all the way to the other end of the house then wailed her way back to just outside the living room door, to a position suited to shouting sobbing protestations from a safe distance. Scarlett O'Hara, eat your heart out. I was cracking up. My ribs hurt.
Husband in sweet, helpful voice: Oh, darling, its not true, and look, mummy's crying too! (I was, sort of)
Daughter, enraged: She's not! She's bloody laughing! Waaaah!
She lamented her way up the house again but slowly came back. Once I had her by my side to talk to, this is how it went:
Me: Darling, rotten daddy was just winding Son up. Do you know what wank means?
Daughter stares blankly
Me: It means playing with your private tickly bits.
Daughter stays wide eyed
Me: And sometimes when boys are growing up, they wake up in the morning and their willy sticks out and feels even more tickly, and then sometimes they play with it.
Daughter (with a big smile like she's got the point): Oh! Daddy does that!
Me: Eh? What? When?
Daughter: You know, when he's lying on the sofa with the telly button (does action of one hand clicking button, other hand defensively clasping crotch)
Me: Oh that! No, thats a bit rude, but wanking usually involves going into your pants and getting it out so you can tug on it properly. Its private.
I have to say that there was more to the earlier discussion, specifically I had remarked that fiddling about can only make little boys go blind if they poke their own eyes afterward before washing their hands. Because of this, Daughter led our current conversation on to wonder, in hushed and gossipy tones, whether her brother had washed his hands recently.
She then forgot all about her lost (and presumably deceased) kitten and skipped off happily (smugly, even), pausing only to eye her brother up and down and point at him in a "haha you're mucky and rude!" kind of a way.
Kids.
posted by Cheryl at 7:28 AM
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