Daughters and Sex Education

Recently my then 11 years old daughter, Mina, asked her 19 years old sister, Emma, about sex, prompting the 19 year old to immediately phone 22 year old sister, Erica, in New Orleans for help. Erica's response was, "Look. Mom told me, I told you, you tell Mina. Mina tells Dhara. That way, no one has to do it twice!"I now have the greatest respect for my oldest daughter. A simple plan that alleviates pain and DOES NOT INVOLVE DAD AT ALL! A few weeks later, during a game of telephone at the dinner table turned my contentment into concern.

During the game, the phrase, "Spring Flowers" four family members later became "Stripper Showers". "My God"! I thought, "What will Dhara be learning three sisters later!" I had mom arrange for a sex education course through the local school system, immediately.

A month later, as instructed by mom, I dropped off Mina at the designated course location and asked what time to pick her up. The instructed chuckled, "Oh no. You stay!", and handed me diagrams of various genitalia to color in. Mina grinned at embarrassed dad, much like her oldest sister did during her "It's a penis" conversation 19 years earlier (See previous post for details). I promptly telephoned Maureen, I mean Daya, to leave work early and attend class, 'CAUSE THAT'S WHAT SEAN THORNTON WOULD HAVE DONE, DAMNED IT! (see previous post if you don't know who Sean Thornton is). Daya, like a good Mrs Thornton, did arrive a few minutes later and I left for home. Two hours later, mom and Mina arrive home with a rainbow colored penis. I pulled mom aside and asked her to instruct Mina to neever touch a penis that looked like that, EVER!

How Did I Get Here?

"Go ahead and laugh", I languidly thought to myself as yet another woman, one of at least six, passed me grinning. Two even emitted a barely audible giggle as they confidently plucked a box from the shelf and strolled by the hopelessly loss middle aged man as he, I, stared in bewilderment at the incredible range of products I was to choose from. I peered down at the note my wife had scrolled in barely legible pseudo script/print a form of hieroglyphics, maybe sanskrit. I dunno, typed it would still read like a dead language. "Let's see", I said aloud as I attempted a rational scientific attempt to decipher and apply the note to the task at hand. "I need", I continued slowly and hesitantly, "I need a box of Tampax tampons" (I thought that was the same thing) "Super - green and blue box, plastic app". I joked to myself, "Before the rains or autumn pick?" There was a everything but that particular product! As a kid, I pictured myself at this age a Don Corleone type or maybe a Sean Thornton character played by John Wayne in the movie "Quiet man". No way William Poweel would have shopped for this crap in "Life with Father"! How did I get here was all I could think? My mind raced back 20 years.

My oldest daughter, Erica, now 23 and 3 at the time, was home from daycare and wrestling with me in bed. Apparently, I learned that day, sex education starts in daycare. She stood up hovering over me and asked, "What's that long thing here?" drawing an imaginary line from her crotch down her thigh. Like any responsible father, I immediately called to her mother, 'cause it was her job and really Sean Thornton would have yelled for Maureen O'Hara damned it. There was no response from Maureen and Erica, sensing Dad's discomfort, pressed him. Giggling she asked again and added, "I know what it is". I shouted louder for her mother to no effect. Laughing hard, Erica said, "It's your penis". "Arghhh!!!!!!", was pretty much how it ended. But those few minutes pretty much set the stage for the rest of my life. Each daughter works hard to make Dad uncomfortable, so much so that I can't feel anything at all. But now that the joke is over, the pattern has been set and personal hygiene products are now just another grocery item for Dad. That's how I got here!

I was making my third pass along the long line of products when a small voice from a small woman behind me asked, "Wife or daughter?" "It's not fair" was all I replied. "Ah wife and daughter" the elderly woman smiled. I raised my eyebrows and said, "Wife and four daughters". "Oh my. You should be a pro by now", she joked. "they keep changing the particulars", I defended myself. I offered her the note. She took a quick look and handed me the appropriate box. I thanked her as she carted away and made her laugh by adding, "See you next month"?

On the way home I rented a copy of Life with father at Blockbusters. I can till dream, can't I?