10.01.20
The day my daughter spoke those dreadful words… “What is a (I can barely bear to type it…) clitoris.”
Ew.
Apparently, the word features in a school drama script. A SCHOOL DRAMA SCRIPT, I TELL YOU!
Knowledge of the clitoris is not something that pops up in Science, nor, as far as I am aware, on any school syllabus at all. It is superfluous knowledge where I’m concerned, and should be understood only after the age of twenty five. Or maybe even thirty.
Biology teacher I may be, but I do not think that I have ever had cause to explain what one of those is before. So, imagine my horror when a) she used the word when practising her drama and b) she then went on to ask me what one was.
I kept my face dead-pan. I did not shriek, or vomit, as I wanted to (remember – I am a great big prude from Prudesville), and I answered her…
“It’s a part of the body”, I said.
Silence.
It’s hidden away,” I continued, knowing I couldn’t leave it there.
Then, I realised I needed to be more specific, but instead of referring to orgasms or sexual encounters or that dreadful word used too much in this context… pleasure (!), I simply added…”It’s the female equivalent of a penis.”
I was actually rather proud of myself for using the word penis out loud without giggling.
I had the urge to follow up this rather scientific take on things by talking about development inside the womb, and how the penis and the cliwotsit have similar origins at the embryo stage (the genital tubercle), but I couldn’t find the words. Plus – I suspected that my child had heard enough. She’d gone quiet.
I knew there was a huge amount of information I had not passed on at this point. I suspected I was failing the girl – maybe misinforming her? I do hope not. But I reassured myself that really, knowledge of that kind is not necessary as yet. It’s the kind of thing you have to come to in your own time (ooh er), via friends, magazines, Jilly Cooper and Fifty Shades of Grey. (Although she’s not allowed to read that until she’s forty.)
Then I remembered, as I so often forget, that information is now just a click away, and googling something is far less embarrassing than asking your mother twice, should my teachings have proven unsatisfactory the first time round. Oh God! I do hope my internet parental controls are robust!
In truth, though, I am secretly flattered. I am glad she asked me the question. I’m pleased I didn’t brush the whole episode off completely. But I can’t help feeling that certain things are for adults to know, and children to not! So my answer was… brief.
God help me, though, when Boy starts asking such questions. He already seems to know far too much, has no filter and no sense of embarrassment whatsoever. He will put my responsible parenting mettle to the test, for sure. In fact, none of them seem backwards in coming forwards, except, maybe, Number Two. Although even she will ask compromising questions about the guinea pigs .
Oh, for a prude child, like what I was! Sullen, easily embarrassed, grumpy, and with no desire to discuss anything vaguely yucky whatsoever.
This must be Karma!
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