Paybacks

Once upon a time, a thousand years ago, I asked my mother a simple question about something I had seen on that paragon of virtuous comedies - Roseanne.  

"Mom...what's masturbation?" I asked.  I was maybe eleven or so.

"Oh, you should ask your dad about that," she replied, quickly and without hesitation.  

And I did.  

I will spare you my father's pained, difficult, drawn-out, beyond awkward answer, but you do have to understand that, for my father, in his world, nothing related to sex existed when pertaining to his daughters.  Nothing.  That meant every movie or show that came on that had a sexual reference or joke was met with stony silence and an unmoving face from my father, my sister and myself - even when we were well into our twenties.  No eye contact, ever.  In fact, when my sister became pregnant with her first child, she was nervous to tell our dad about it, because then he would know that she had been doing "it" - despite the fact that she had been married for two years and chances were, he may have already suspected.  But that was our family.  

Why did my mom tell me to ask my dad?  Because she's my mom, and I'm sure that, as I walked out of the room to find my father and ruin his entire week, she was laughing uncontrollably.  

So, fast forward twenty-plus years, and I'm often the one who sends my kid to go ask his dad - less out of awkwardness and more out of sheer exhaustion from fielding his constant questions.

But the other day, I made a mistake.  My husband was being a complete jackass.  And by that I mean he was laying on our dining room table, in the fetal position, making these horrible squirming movements and declaring that he was a mosquito larvae.  Yes, he does stuff like this often.  No, I don't know why.  Yes, he's lucky that most of the time it makes me laugh.  

I told him to quit being a dick...just as our four year old walked in.

"I don't know what a 'dick' is," he piped up.  "What is it, Mom?"

Justin and I were already laughing, and hearing that sent us off further...so, of course, like any other four year old, Junior started laughing, as well, and asking repeatedly, "What is this dick?"

Finally, I said, "It's a horrible word that no one should use.  Mama shouldn't have said it."

"But what is it?"

"A bad word."

"BUT WHAT DOES IT MEAN?"

"Oh God.  It's just a bad word."

"I'll call my Mina and she will tell me what a dick is."  (Mina, by the way, is what he calls his grandma - my mother.)

And, of course, I handed him the phone.  Because I am a horrible parent, and an even worse daughter...and because my mom made me go ask my dad was masturbation was, twenty some years ago.

The phone rang.  I could hear her say "hello."  My son breathed heavily into the phone for a minute, and I waited...and then, in gloriously clear and loud tones, he asked, "MINA, HAVE YOU EVER EVEN SEEN A DICK?"

Luckily, I only had to remind him twice the next day that we don't say that word, and I did end up telling him what it was, but it was worth it.  It really, really was.