We had a choice. Drive to Ikea and buy a new chest of drawers and spend an hour or two assembling them and cursing all flatpack furniture. Or not drive to Ikea and fix our current, worn out chest of drawers.
We chose the latter.
That is how I ended up in our bed, reading stories to my four year old while his nine and twelve year old brothers pootered about, as we waited until their dad finished fixing the drawers in their bedroom. And how my nine year old noticed something under our bed.
"Whats in the box?" he asked. There was no avoiding the question.
"Daddys contraceptives. " I said. and quickly went on reading Tatty Ratty.
"What did you say?" said his brother. My nine year old jumped in, always the expert.
"She means they are things you use if you want to have sex but don't want any more babies."
His brother looked suprised.
"You don't want any more babies?"
"No" I told him, "four boys are enough. I mean four boys are just perfect." And went on reading. My four year old was listening, but his brothers were thinking. And reading out loud themselves;
"Thin feel for greater sensitivity. Easy on shaped and teat ended for comfort and fit. Transparent and lub..lub..ricated for natural rubber latex condoms."
OH MY GOD.
Not only could I think of absolutely nothing to say, I could feel a fit of the giggles coming on. Would this ever end? Not quite yet. The nine year old looked at me again.
"So, the two of you..I mean do you...?"
Oh no. I was mortified and doing a bad job covering it up."Yes." I said. There followed a second of silence and the two elder boys leapt away from the bed as if it were on fire.
"Yuck!"
"Gross!"
"I can never get in there again!"
I thanked my stars that my thirteen year old was in his bedroom, on his computer, wearing headphones. Not something I usually encourage, but such a blessing last night.
So, I finished Tatty Ratty, and finally, finally the drawers were done.
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