A few weeks ago, we were hanging out with another family with two daughters. The other dad brought up a news story that proclaimed that blow jobs were the new good night kiss. And then the adults, lifted there hands to their foreheads, turned pale white and nearly fainted. I piped in with a "whoa, whoa - do I think that girls are giving BJ's on the front porch while their dad's peek through the peep hole? No. But if you think high school boys aren't getting a blow job, you're nuts." And then they all said I was wise and sage and should consider running for PTA president.
But, seriously. I hate it when there's a something that the media latches on to and it is designed to scare the crap out of parents. Because I had given absolutely NO THOUGHT to my daughters and oral sex until that moment. And now my brain is scarred. Permanently. Apparently, there's a book and a documentary by a Canadian author who doesn't even have an Wikipedia page. I poked around long enough to find that she started a few teen focused magazines in Canada. (Canadians are so horny, so of course they wouldn't just settle for a kiss on the porch.) Now that I know there's a book, I'm going to have to at the very least flip through it.
This reminds me of something my cousin Brandon's wife said to me once while she was holding her newborn son: If you're the mother of a boy you have to worry about one penis. If you're a mother of a girl, you have to worry about all the penises.
The most frightening part of this story (so far at least) is the bit at the end of the clip where it says that you have to establish open communication at a very young age and be constantly engaged with your children at all times. I hate it when I have to inspect my parenting under a microscope.
*This post is being interupted by a call from the school nurse.* (And additional anxiety, I've been passing along the link to my blog for some writing jobs. I think posts like this aren't going to endear me to future employers.)