How would you answer when faced with big, innocent blue eyes staring at you while the seven year old owner asks, “What does s-e-x mean?”

When I was a teenager I was the recipient of male attention.  In response I wore shirts that showed my flat belly, pants that highlighted my perky little teenager butt and my shirts were sometimes too low cut for my blossoming figure.  In my memory I jumped rather quickly from wearing big t-shirts printed with Goofy holding a paintbrush to letting my belly button get fresh air at football games.

I wasn’t having sex, I had never been interested in being sexy.  I was silly and funny and artsy.  I wrote moody poetry and read the Odyssey for fun.  Three times.  It wasn’t until I started getting unsolicited attention from boys, and men, that I started to give in to what seemed to be expected of me.  I was a sophomore in high school when I first wore what I thought at the time was a racy outfit: loose black pants and a baby blue v-neck shirt that exposed my clavicles.  That’s right, my collar bones.  But I was growing and blossoming and getting pretty and the opposite sex started to notice.

I have never taken drugs but I assume getting attention for your looks is very much like needing a drug.  When you aren’t noticed it’s like you need a fix. So the spiral started.  The girl who used to wear soccer shorts and sambas was slowly morphing into lipgloss wearing, cleavage sporting flirt.  If I could only go back and talk to her, tell her that although she wasn’t doing anything past flirting with all those boys that the other girls, and boys, were saying otherwise.  I would tell her that the boys who flirted back were not playing games.

I can’t talk to the teenage Katie about what that image of sexiness was projecting.  But I can talk to my little girl, and my little boy, about what sexy should mean to them.

Sexy does not equal skin.  When Addie starts getting attention from boys I want her to think about what kind of boy she is attracting.  Does she want to be associated with someone who is drawn to a girl in short shorts and a crop top, wanting to find out what’s underneath?  Or does she want to draw the attention of a boy who can’t stop laughing at her jokes or can’t look away when the sun makes those blue eyes sparkle.  I want her to be oblivious of the boys who whisper sweet nothings to girls in back seats of cars and instead turn her attention to the boys who challenge her opinion and debate with her because she’s sharp as a tack and it’s fun to spar with someone like her.

I want my little boy to grow into the kind of teenager who looks past what a girl has on and values her company because she’s interesting and kind.  I want him to always remember that no matter what a girl chooses to wear that she is someone’s daughter, someone’s sister and that he should treat her the way he would want someone to treat HIS sister.  I want him to have integrity and respect like his daddy.

I still want Addie’s heart to flutter when that special boy looks her way.  I still hope William has those awesome butterflies when he knows that girl is going to be in his next class .  But I want them to respect themselves, and the people they are attracted to, by taking their time.

As it turns out, Addie had noticed that scene in the Lion King where Simba flops down in the grass and dust floats up into the night sky and spells out SEX.  What does it mean mom?

What would you have said?

I chickened out, thought fast and told her that sex was a term we use to differentiate males and females.  A boy dog’s sex is male and a girl dog’s sex is female.

Boom.  Honesty.

C’mon, she’s seven.  We’ll get there, just not quite yet.