A Chicken's Guide to Talking Turkey with Your Kids about Sex ...

Chapter 1It’s a Tough Job,butSomeone Has to Do ItIt marked the beginning of yet another childrearing era in the Lemanhousehold when my daughter asked me, “Dad, can I have a party?”“What kind of party?” I asked.“Oh,” she said nonchalantly, “a Christmas party.”“Sounds good to me,” I said. “Who are you going to invite?”“Allison, Kristen, Katey Jo, Lindsey, Corey, Crystal, Amy . . .”I knew all these names, so I only half listened, but suddenly I caughton to a very pregnant pause. Hannah looked at me uncertainly, thenadded a little more quickly, “and maybe Chris, Michael, Kyle, Ben, Mark,and Josh.”I stopped what I was doing and looked at Hannah, seeing for the firsttime that curious twilight I had witnessed in my older daughters—agirl’s slow but steady passage into womanhood.Though Hannah was fourteen years old, I couldn’t help thinking,Holy crow, I don’t know whether I want that or not. Boys and girls atthe same party, huh? So we’re at that stage, are we?Suddenly I felt whisked back to when I was twelve years old and theswirling sensations of one puberty-laden night on the school dance floor.I was in seventh grade, and I remember dancing ever so closely to WendyWinfield at the Broomstick Bounce. I distinctly recall what she lookedlike that night, the red crewneck sweater she wore, even the song wedanced to (“In the Still of the Night”)—and that was nearly half a centuryago!I can’t believe this, I remember thinking as Wendy and I danced, I’mholding on to a girl. Two years earlier I had hated girls; I either wantedto play practical jokes on them or avoid them altogether. Yet there I wasdancing with one, and liking it!What is happening to me? I wondered.Remember those days? Can you bring to mind the first inkling thatyou “liked” someone? When was the first time you asked a friend to find11