Well said my boy.

From the moment my daughter was born and I looked into her beautifully calm brown eyes I knew that she would teach me more about myself and my world than I would ever be able to impart to her. And every day since has proven to me just how right my first impressions were.

I have learned harmony is walking barefoot in the morning dew beside your child with their soft hand wrapped around your little finger. I now know how it feels to so desperately want someone to succeed it physically hurts. I’ve discovered awe, empathy, hope and more, and with the addition to the family of her three brothers over the next six years, there are now more life lesson opportunities coming my way on a daily basis than I ever thought possible.

The most recent lesson came my way via my youngest son just a couple of days ago.
My wife called me at work on a Tuesday and very demurely asked me if I wanted to skip lunch and come home for a booty call. As I made the normally ten minute drive home in 5:49 flat whilst removing my socks, shoes, and belt the following conversation took place between my wife and son:

“Hey Owen, how would you like to watch Mickey Mouse clubhouse and eat a big bowl of ice-cream?”

“Daddy’s coming home isn’t he?”

“Yes Daddy and Mommy have a very important meeting tonight that they need to discuss quietly without you interrupting them, so we need you to stay in here and watch the whole show OK?”

“You’re going to have sex aren’t you?”

“What makes you say that?”

“I heard you talking to Daddy on the phone and you said sex, so that’s what you’re going to do isn’t it?”

This is where my wife took a pause and thought about the best way to handle the situation. She has a policy of being brutally honest with the children to a fault. She believes that if they are mature enough to ask intelligent questions then they deserve the truth to said questions. We differ. My response would have been, “Where did you learn that word? You know what, I don’t want to know. Now mind your own business, shut up and get in that room with Mickey Mouse and your ice-cream and don’t come out until I tell you to!”

Her response, “Maybe.”

At which point my boy doubled over in pain and moaned “Oohhh! That’s like a kick in the balls!”

Apparently when you are a four year old boy, the thought of your father having sex with your mother can best be expressed in terms of receiving a swift foot to the groin.

I actually learned two lessons from this warm and fuzzy family moment. One, the youngest of four kids knows WAY more about things he shouldn’t than I could ever possibly imagine. Two, my boy has a surprisingly advanced command of the English language when it comes to expressing oneself through metaphor and simile. Well said my boy, there is little interpretation left as to how you truly feel about your parents doing it!!