Parental Discretion Advised

Well, it finally happened: Simon asked us why Bill & Ted's favorite number is sixty-nine. We've been dreading this moment ever since Aunt Lexi gave him a copy of the DVD for Christmas back in 2004. We watched it with him a the first couple of times, in case he found the telephone booth time travel scenes too alarming (back then he was pretty easily alarmed). We felt compelled to address a few of the more egregious comments -- dudes, a history report can too be about babes! -- but decided to let the whole Oedipal stepmother thing slide over Simon's head, along with the scene where Bill and Ted confront their future selves: "If you're really us, then what number are we thinking of?" (The answer is at the end of this trailer, if you'd like to relive this immortal moment.)

Four years of anticipating the question hadn't actually led us to prepare a response, unfortunately. So when Simon finally popped it -- last Friday as the four of us were driving back from a rollerderby bout in Lynnwood -- we were caught off-guard. We tried to deflect, honest we did. "Oh, it's really just a stupid joke," we said. "It'll make more sense when you're older." But of course he only became more and more determined to be told. Finally we turned around and looked him in the eye.

"It has to do with sex," we said. "Do you still want to know?"

Silence for a moment. Then: "Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then." So we told him.

We wish we could describe the series of expressions -- amazement, amusement, embarrassment, and something akin to horror -- that passed across his face as we talked, checking in every sentence or two to see if he really wanted us to keep going.

When we were done, we decided we needed to add in that little sermon about how people often joke about sex, or talk about it like it's something naughty, and that if you think of it as this strange thing people do with these goofy body parts, it can sound kind of silly and gross, but that we also want them to know that sex can also be serious, in a good way, and that we want them to have some sense of that nice, loving side of it before they start hearing a whole bunch of icky jokes.

Well, by the time we were done with that, both children were beet red, plastered against their respective car doors, avoiding eye contact with all their mights. When we pulled up to the house, they both leaped out of the car and sprinted into the house. It dawned on us that we might have a powerful new threat in our parental arsenal: "If you're not in your pajamas with your teeth brushed and your dirty clothes in the hamper in five minutes, I'll tell you what a dildo is!"

A couple of nights later the topic came up again at the dinner table -- I think it was when Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings' "Let Them Knock" came on the radio. Josie offered up the opinion that it wasn't really much of a compliment to say that you wouldn't get up and answer the door in the middle of having sex, but then despite having initiated the conversation herself, quickly decided she did not want to hear her parents utter phrases like "makin' love," even if they were quoting the Queen of Funk.

So she got up from the table and donned her protective gear:


Which rendered her mother and father speechless enough that she was able to finish her meal in peace.