Turnips & Blowtorches

I was trying to corral the wild Squirrels one afternoon after school when my email account dinged to let me know I had a new message. The school librarian wrote to tell me:

“I wanted to tell you about something that happened in computer lab today. The kids were using the search engine (ask.com) to ask questions about animals. It turned into something else since children get naturally curious about other things. Kids started asking questions about the tallest people, smallest people, richest people etc. I guess Elisabeth asked "who is the hottest person in the world?" One of the links that came up had the word "sex" in it. I overheard some girls whispering about it later. We talked again about the importance of being safe on the Internet and even if these websites are blocked at school, we always have to be careful about what we type etc.”

The librarian went on to tell me that she didn’t want the story blown out of proportion. My first thought, as I nearly swallowed my tongue, was “EVER HEARD OF FILTERING SOFTWARE, LOCAL SCHOOL DISTRICT?” Then I decided to ask Elisabeth…very nonchalantly…about the situation. The conversation went like this:

Me: “Soooo…did you find something interesting in your Internet search today?”

Eli (blank look…then, a guilty head dip with a scurrying glance right and left): “It wasn’t me…it was Haley.”

Me: “So an interesting word didn’t come up on your computer.”

Eli (realizing her mama is no fool, looks sheepishly down at her toes): “Oh yeah…a bad word came up.”

Me: “What does the word mean?”

Eli: “I don’t know.”

Me: “Then how did you know it was a bad word.”

Eli: “Olivia told me. But I already forgot what she said.”

Yeah, I am not so hip on this peer sex education thing. Granted, I’ve been remiss in my responsibilities to delve into the whole explanation. Mostly, I have been putting off because I feel highly unqualified to be addressing this subject. Seriously, I have the sexual I.Q. of a turnip.

(Note to dudes here…you may want to turn back now. After reading on, you would probably have the urge to gouge out an eyeball. Or both. Just giving you fair warning.)

Not that I don’t want creativity in sexual side of my life. It’s just that when I try, I end up nearly beheaded by a ceiling fan (that really happened). Or like the time when I decided to attend one of those parties that are supposed to talk about massage oil and lotions. Only this party turned out to have a lot of things I had never seen before. Turns out the “beaded necklaces” at this party were not meant to hang around your neck.

And then the party demonstrator asked for volunteers to try a new “stimulating lotion” for Ladytown. I thought I would be a sport and give it a whirl. She had me go to the bathroom to apply said product. I came back out…not feeling a whole lot…and then SWEET MOTHER OF ALL THINGS PURE I felt like someone had taken a blowtorch to my nether regions. The party demonstrator is all smiles, extolling the virtues of this wonderful product to the other participants as I am doubled over, sweat pouring down my face, gasping for my last breath, wondering how in the SAM HILL this was supposed to be stimulating. It was like a Brazilian bikini wax on STEROIDS.

Finally, when the demonstrator realized that everyone was chortling at my distress and not listening to her, she gasped, clutched a hand to her chest, and wheezed, “Please feel free to remove it if it is not pleasant.”

So much for trying to get my freak on and surprise Husband. Of course, he would have been surprised to find third degree burns “down there”.

Perhaps I will skip that story as Eli and I delve into the human sexuality lessons coming up. Some things just need to be kept between us turnips.