Blame Barbie

Posted in Mom Stuff
by besttech

Blame Barbie

By Julie

DC METRO MOMS BLOG

“Don’t touch my Barbie. It’s mine.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

I arrive just in time to intercept my 5-year-old’s attempt to hurl a soccer kick at her younger brother.

“Stop! Don’t kick him thhhheeeerrrrre,” I yell as I throw myself in between the two of them. “It’s NOT okay to kick when we’re mad. Kicking him there could mean there’s a chance he couldn’t make babies.”

Wowwww! What did I just say…? A chance he couldn’t make babies? Talk about opening a can of worms. Gotta love the moment after, hindsight.

Oh, please, oh, please, oh, please … tell me you didn’t hear that, I silently beg.

On this no nap, over-tired, stuck-in-the-house-ALL-DAY-rainy day, the last thing I feel like doing now is talking about sex. Not because I don’t want to deal with the subject. After all, sex talk generally makes for fine conversation. Thanks to a recent read, probably “Your Five- and Six-Year-Old: As They Grow,” I know it’s only a matter of time before my innocent, although obviously feisty, rising kindergartener starts asking questions about S-E-X, like “Where do Babies Come From?”

But today I’m too tired for sex. Too tired to explain that those boy and girl parts actually have distinct functions and purposes. In my 5-year-old’s world, mommies make babies. It’s as simple as that. Oh, of course, the word “abracadabra” is involved, too. I learned that last week, when my 5-year-old waved an imaginary wand over me, sprinkled imaginary fairy dust on me, and dramatically said, “abracadabra, make mom have more babies.”

Some argue sex education needs to begin at age 5, especially if there’s any hope of combating issues like teen pregnancy and STDs. But I don’t know if I can muster the energy to creatively explain, and then answer 101 questions about, the fundamentals of grown up gardening (aka seed sowing). At least not today. After all, merely a brief explanation about why I don’t want my children to peer inside those bathroom stall “mailbox” feminine hygiene trash receptacles usually morphs into a dissertation defense.

“Whhhhhyyyy, Mom…Why?”

Oh, no. I brace myself for the explanation. But before the first word comes out, my five-year old cuts me off.

“Why won’t he leave me and my Barbies alone?”

Distracted by Barbie. I let out a sigh of relief, for now. Guess I’d better rest up fast because there’s bound to be another Barbie battle soon.

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This an original post from the DC Metro Moms blog, http://www.dcmetromoms.com … When Julie’s not mediating toy disputes, you can find her trying to help lawyer-parents at Darling Hill, http://www.darlinghill.com

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(c) 2008, Julie.

As written for DC Metro Moms, http://www.dcmetromoms.com

Distributed by McClatchy-Tribune Information Services.