The birds and the...TVs?

This one is going up several years late, but better late than never.

We were sitting around the table eating dinner when the subject shifted to a topic closely related to “the birds and the bees”. I honestly cannot remember what it was we were discussing, exactly, but as the subject strayed toward something to do with the mechanics of human sexuality, I suggested that we might need to change the subject, since Megan had not yet had “the talk”.

Megan promptly chimed in, “Actually, I already know”. I immediately turned to Kaitlyn. She and I had recently taken a mother-daughter trip during which I’d shared the details of all things related to puberty and sexual intercourse. At several points during that weekend-long conversation, I had strictly warned her against sharing the things she was learning with her younger sister. But if Megan “already knew” then it seemed logical that Kaitlyn had “spilled the beans” in spite of her promise not to.

“Kaitlyn!” The accusation in my voice was clear.

Kaitlyn recoiled. “I didn’t tell her!”

I was skeptical. Yes, of course both boys “knew” as well, but they’d managed to keep it to themselves for several years, so it hardly made sense that they’d keep it from Kaitlyn but tell Megan.

“Kaitlyn, you...”

“She didn’t tell me,” Megan interrupted. “Dad did.”

I looked at Andrew, utterly confused. We had agreed, years before, that while we would honestly answer any questions the kids had as they grew, that the vast majority of the information would be shared with each child during a special father-son or mother-daughter trip when they were close to puberty. And that anytime we were approached with bigger questions, that would at least be shared with the other parent so we could be on the same page about who knew what.

Andrew looked back at me, clearly just as perplexed, shaking his head to indicate that, no, he did not pass this information along to our young daughter.

“Well, he didn’t exactly tell me.” Megan continued, cheerfully. “It was more like he showed me.”

I’m frantic now. Despite the fact that I know and trust my husband, for some reason I’m picturing our innocent little girl being corrupted by some graphic porn video.

“What do you mean?” I try to keep my voice even as I question my daughter. “How did dad show you?”

“Well, he was trying to fix the TV, and he showed me that he had to plug the male end of the cable into the female end on the TV. So I watched him do that and then I figured it out.”