Kiss Snog Relief?

13313688_10208044762751148_1660775751_o
This story is all about these cute little munchkins. And their mother.

“Mummy, I have a boyfriend called Christian and he kissed me,” Miss5 announced to the dinner table.

The Miss5 in this story, and the masters 6 & 8, belong to a lovely reader of Big Family Little Income, Helen Kulas, who kindly agreed I could retell this story.

I don’t know about you, but I think Miss5’s statement was super cute. At five years old, the kiss in question is identical to the one they give grandma and everyone else in the family. It’s not until high school that tongues get involved, both within the kiss which escalates to a snog and the teenage gossip which circulates afterwards.

As a parent, I’ve found you can tell the difference between a kiss and a snog because of what this sort of declaration does to your blood pressure.

Before Helen could respond to her little darling’s announcement, her youngest son threw in his two cents worth and the conversation did that thing where you don’t know whether to giggle or cringe.

“OH MY GOD!” Master6 bellowed. “That’s how you get babies in your tummy! You’re gonna get a baby in your tummy!”

Again, not until high school. And only if it’s a really good kiss. And even then, only if he’s the sole heir to a sizeable fortune. Wait…did I type that out loud?

Naturally, Helen took a deep breath and immediately went to put paid to this nonsense before it took on a life of its own. In hindsight, she probably shouldn’t have wasted all that time on filling her lungs.

“But I don’t want to get a baby in my tummy,” whined Miss5, suddenly horrified. “It hurts when they come out!”

Tracey also thinks it’s a good idea kids know this fact. It’s sort of a ‘you owe me’ you hope the kids will one day appreciate, but which really just threatens your chance of grandchildren.

Again, Helen went to say something, but again didn’t get a chance.

“For God sake, get a grip,” the wiser older brother, Master8, snapped at his younger siblings. “You have to have sex to get a baby in your tummy.”

Not the approach Helen would have taken, but it did successfully calm the situation at the dinner table down to Defcon5.

For a few seconds.

In fact, Helen was shakily reaching for a bread roll (holding in laughter will do that) and counting herself lucky when something rather unpleasant occurred to Master8. He shot his mother a horrified look and slammed his cutlery down.

“Oh my God, Mum,” he said. His tone was mainly disgust with a tablespoon of horror stirred in. “Does that mean you and Dad have had sex?” There was a pause Helen again struggled to fill with words. Master8, not so much. “Three times?!”

“Ewwwww!” came a chorus from the dinner table.

“That’s so gross,” said Miss5.

Wait until high school and some boy tries to shove his tongue down her throat.

“Raising a family on little more than laughs”

Sharing is caring. Plus it really does make a difference. Thanks heaps.

3 Comments

  • I maintain that as there is no actual evidence of me giving birth there is no proof that the 3 children who occupy my house are anything to do with me (photos of me holding babies in hospitals don’t count – I could have just wandered in there).

  • My grandmother swore to her dying day that she’d only ever had sex 7 times… because it doesn’t always work! (She had 2 children lol)

What do you think?

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.