As I grow older, and am exposed to other people’s parents, I realize more and more that my parents are unique. Here is my first story of many about them.Growing up, my family had a habit of reading while eating. Not at Family Dinner, which we had for many years until my mom decided to stop cooking. (That’s another story.) But while eating alone.
We had a floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall bookshelf in our kitchen. Our ritual would be to pour a bowl of cereal and then take a book off the shelf. From the age of three, I did this. I went through Goodnight Moon through Where the Wild Things Are to Dr. Seuss to the entire Three Investigators series.
When I was around six, I noticed more serious titles like Talking To Your Five To Eight Year Old About Sex appearing on the shelf. As I aged, so did the title ages of the books, finishing when I was 13 with Talking To Your 15 to 18 Year Old About Sex. Page 57 had the good pictures on it.
My sister Christine and I would refer back to that page often.
My parents NEVER discussed sex with me – or my two sisters – growing up. Those books were our parent's way of imparting that knowledge.
2 comments:
Oh, I'm pretty sure your parents were different all right
(clown school anyone? :)
But then *everyone's* parents are different....and yet the same.
I also got a book to "explain" sex.
Thank God too. It's nothing any of us wanted to hear about :)
Your parents are different from mine. Yours expected you to fry your own eggs at the age of six. I wasn't allowed near the stove until I was 18. I think there must be a happy medium somewhere.
But whose parents discuss sex with them? At least yours put books on the shelves. I had to steal my sex books. ;)
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