Geeks fight it out and sex-talk with four year olds

This is why geeks shouldn't marry geeks.

My darling Evil Genius Husband ran mad in the comic shop toy section on Wednesday and bought me several new Boba Fett toys (including the Lego Slave I and the limited edition die-cast Slave I ... yes, you may drool with envy).

Anyway, my oldest son, Boy, was admiring the Lego box and he asked me a Boba Fett question*. Distracted, I told him I didn't know the answer. He murmured: "I'll ask Dada". I immediately snapped to attention and informed him (just the teensiest bit aloofly) that any Star Wars questions were to be directed to me. Momma. I am the reigning expert in the house.

See, when any of the kids has a comic book question it's directed to EGH (I don't know why they'd be asking comic book questions, it's not like the entire fucking house is covered with comic book and comic character crap: light switch covers, toys, lamps, cups, pencil holders, plushes, figurines, posters, statuettes, pillows, clothing, and of course, actual comics. It's not as if THAT is the case ....)

Where was I?

Oh, so EGH is the accepted expert and Final Word on comic stuff. Now, bear in mind that while I can in no way compete with his encyclopedic mental database, I don't suck, either. I'm a pretty dab hand at discussing Claremont era X-Men (because I was there, motherfuckers, buying 'em and reading 'em) and any others of "my" era like Werewolf By Night (Rima the Jungle Girl**, anyone?). But the point is that I defer to his knowledge.

Fast forward to that evening when I laughingly related the incident to him.

Silence.

I looked over at him and he was wearing that slight frown that he gets when he's contemplating the relative merits of voicing his opinion and risking my going all Deadpool on him.

Me (exasperated): "What?"
Him: "He could've asked me."
Me: "No. I'm the Star Wars person. You're the comic guy."
Him (slightly petulantly): "I know about Star Wars ..."
Me (feeling a mite Deadpooly): "But I know more!"
Him: "I know about Star Trek!"
Me: "We're not talking about Star Trek and I know as much as you about Star trek!"

Let's just say the argument spiraled from there to the point where make-up sex was necessary (not that I'm complainin'). So this is why geeks should only marry non-geeks, then there will be clear parametres and no confusion for the kiddies! Yeah.

----

So I just recently tampered with my code (here on this blog) and I was looking at the page when my oldest son, Boy, points to the new pic in the sidebar and asks: "What's that?"

Well it's a wall carving discovered in ancient Pompeii, presumably outside a brothel, and I had no intention of lying to him. "It's a willy," I said.

He contemplated this a moment and said: "A willy."

"A penis and testicles," I said.

He giggled a bit at the word testicles (it is kind of a funny word) then observed: "It's standing up,"

OK, starting to sweat a bit here. I'm quite frank with my babes about body parts, but this is pushing into the realm of sexuality. How did I feel about that?

Well, I tell you how I feel. I like it. I do it often. I feel like it's the most natural and wonderful thing in the world for people in a strong relationship to engage in. Evil Genius Husband and I don't shag in front of the tykes or anything but we are quite openly affectionate. I think it's good for a child to see how much his parents love each other and that they have a firm (heh) relationship.

Well, while I was wringing out this internal monologue my son says: "My willy stands up sometimes," and my brain, seeing that I was clearly going to overanalyze this to death, rescued me:

"yep," I said easily, "willies do that sometimes," and he wandered off, satisfied.

*whew*


*The question was: "Can Boba Fett fly the Slave I remotely?" The answer is: "Yes, he communicates with his ship via his helmet."
** This is Rima drawn deliciously by Nestor Redondo