Showdown at the Local Costco

Friday night found me alone with my son, Frac. Fric was over at a friend's house, painting her toenails, and gossiping about the boy crush known as Nathaniel. (This is an anonymous blog, right?) Since a little quality mother-son time was upon me, I did what any good mother would do. I took the boy shopping. Don't worry, dear internet, I avoided all clothing and underwear stores and stuck strictly to the grocery ones. It was nice having some one on one time with my boy; I learned all about the plot line of his favorite video game, the names of his favorite characters and the fact that his teacher, Mrs. Moustache, (no, she doesn't have one...I think) drinks way too much diet Pepsi in the morning.

After arguing over whether broccoli was really a necessity of life (I say yes, but he argued no) and debating whether apple turn-overs were a breakfast food or a dessert (he said dessert, I argued breakfast food), we decided to grab a hotdog and a pop for our supper.

I believe in a well-balanced healthy meal consisting of all parts of the cow and a variety of different chemicals I can't even pronounce.

Sitting there, with my wiener (two days in a row I managed to squeeze that word into a post!) slathered in mustard and sauerkraut, I looked at my son who was covered in ketchup, trying to fit an oversized hotdog into his mouth, and thought how proud I was to be part of his life; to simply know him. Even when he used the sleeve of his new cream sweater as an over-priced napkin to sop up the ketchup from his face.

I looked around and noticed the people around me. It was late already, and the table section was fairly empty. On one side of us was an elderly gentleman enjoying a slice of vegetarian pizza while reading a magazine, and on the other side of our table were two men my age, one with iPod buds in his ear and the other a scruffy man in desperate need of a shower. They kept looking over and smiling, I kept pretending I didn't see them.

Suddenly, Frac decided to become Chatty Kathy. He asked how I met Dad (I've told this story many, many times), how I knew I loved him, (I told him it all depended on the size of his dad's weekly paycheck), and why didn't I ever play video games. (Duh, I suck at them!)

All the while the men on either side of us, listened with half an ear, while pretending not to. To be fair to them, my Frac has a large, booming voice, much like his father. Even when he whispers, people in the next county can hear what he is saying. I used to think he had hearing problems, now I know that he's just a boomer.

Trying to be discreet and witty all at the same time, without discouraging this unusually inquisitive side of my son, I tried to answer any question he tossed at me. He just kept tossing the curveballs, and I just kept knocking them out of the ball park.

I knew I was in trouble when his eyes lit up. I could see the gears in his brain start to spin furiously. He suddenly became aware of the audience we had on either side of us. This no longer was a question and answer period, but a game of let's see what I can get away with.

I knew it, and thought bring it on, little man. I'm smarter than you. Damn it, I'm 31 and you're nine. Let the better man win.

While slurping loudly from his over-sized cup of pop, he asked me what a uterus was. The elderly gentleman next to us suddenly wished he had picked another table to sit at. I proceeded to explain to my son that it was a woman's sex organ where babies are conceived and live until they are born. Silently tapping myself on the back, I looked at the old man to see if I had answered appropriately and if he needed resuscitation.

Frac thought of this for a second and then asked where the uterus was. How the f#&k do I know? I thought as I calmly answered "in our mid-section, behind our bladders." I was speaking softer now, not wanting to reveal my ignorance of the feminine anatomy to the men on either side of me.

As Frac digested this and his cowparts sausage, an evil gleam glimmered in his eyes. Shit, I thought, but in for a penny, in for a pound.

"Well, where do the babies come out?" Frac asked loudly, and somewhat triumphantly. Little bugger knew he had me by my tailfeathers as he looked at the men at the one table and grinned widely.

Ignoring the smirking fools sitting next to me, I looked Frac square in the eye and thought, Two can play at this game, my little demon spawn, while answering loudly and proudly, "Why out of our VAGINAS, of course."

Frac paled a little at the va-jay-jay word and the elderly gentleman choked on his coffee. I studiously ignored the laughing from the men on the other side of me. But Frac is his mother's son, and he straightened up, looked thoughtful evil for a moment and then asked loudly "Does any part of the man's body go into the woman's when they have sex?" I could see the look of triumph on his face. Kid thought he had me beat.

I looked him straight in the eye and said "Of course. Haven't you ever heard of French kissing? The man puts his tongue into a woman's mouth, and if he's lucky she doesn't bite it off."

I knew I was walking a fine line here, knowing that if Boo was around he'd likely murder me for my answers. Let's not even go to what my social worker would think if she knew what I was teaching my kid. Visions of my husband fleeing with my children and my soon-to-be-adopted child being yanked out of my arms by an angry government employee skittered through my head. But this was war, dammit, and I hate losing.

By now, the elderly gentleman had enough of my sex education talk and took his pizza and moved to a table further away from me and my talk of uteri and vaginas. When he stood up he gave me a withering look and shook his head in pity for my son. I shot him a brilliant smile and was tempted to invite him to sit with us to enjoy his meal.

Secretly, I was sweating bullets and Frac knew it. I was looking for a way to end this conversation without conceding victory and he was looking for a way to go in for the kill. Meanwhile, the men next to us were enthralled, trying hard to contain their giggles and guffaws. Bastards were egging on my Frac, and Frac knew it.

My beautiful boy sat and thought about French kissing for a second and then looked me dead in the eye and grinned.

Shit.

"No, Mom, I mean, any parts DOWN there," as he pointed to his nether regions.

By now, the men next to us made no pretense of ignoring our conversation. They sat there, with their mouths agape, and waited breathlessly for my answer. I looked at them, for backup, pity, support, anything, but could see I wasn't going to get any from these twits.

I looked at Frac and saw his beaming face. The little shit knew he had me. I could either launch into a sermon of the birds and the bees and educate all the men around me (for God knows the trolls next to me obviously needed an education) about the intricacies of sex OR I could admit defeat.

I did what any good woman would do.

I changed the subject and asked Frac if he wanted to go pick out a new video game. Suddenly, the battle was forgotten and the gleam in his eye turned into one of electronic delight.

I shot the men next to me an evil smile and they looked devastated. Apparently, Frac and I were the evening's entertainment and I had just closed the show before the really good part began. As Frac hurried to the garbage bin to dispose of our remnants, I leaned over to the men and whispered, "Don't ever underestimate a woman, gentleman."

As Frac waved at me to hurry up, after all, I had just bribed promised him a new game, I smiled at the men and sauntered away.

Crisis averted, and battle won.