Mom, she says, I read those books.
Those books?
Yeah. THOSE books.
I look up from my magazine to see whether there was something more specific about THOSE books. We'd been laying about, lolling in my bed, me reading while she watched a movie.
Ah. It was written on her face, the tenative, furtive look. It wasn't the last of the Lemony Snicket books to which she referred. It was the sex education books I'd given her.
Oh? Something wrong? Did you have questions?
No. Umm, no.
Well? I could tell there was something else going on. She wouldn't look me in the eye, looking at the bedspread and then the ceiling instead.
Well, I just can't imagine you and Dad...you know, doing it. Ugh!!!
She hung her head into her hands, eyes tightly closed, shaking her pony tail back and forth as she moaned in disgust.
Yeah, I know, try not to think about it. I know I was weirded out when I find out about it, too, picturing my parents doing it.
Grandma and Grandpa? Really? She giggled.
Ugh. I still can't think about it, I told her.
I feigned the disgust I felt when I was her age for her benefit. She appeared more relaxed, thinking it was normal.
Yeah, it's kind of weird until you get older. Much older.
You can wait for the day when it seems normal for your parents to, you know, do it...
I wrinkled my nose for emphasis, rolling my eyes.
She giggled again and then moved off to a different topic.
There. That was easier than I expected. I don't think I talked like that to my mom until I was in my thirties.
Let's hope this remains easy.
10:50:48 PM 
