Enough to Miss Christmas - Page 129/277

"Are you sure you want to get involved in stuff like that?" he asked.

"How did you learn about the birds and the bees?"

"Not from my mother and father, that's for sure."

"That's my point; I don't want Karen to rely on girl's room chatter to learn this stuff. It's important to get it right. I want first shot."

He flopped back on the pillow. "God," he moaned, "I'm getting old! The world is too damned fast for me! If you two talk about sex, please at least tell her not to do it!"

"That will be in an early lesson," I said smugly. "I don't want Mary Ellen or anyone else to be her prime teacher."

"It sounds as if you wait a few weeks she'll be teaching us! God," he moaned, "I never would have dared ask my parents a question like that!"

"I would have asked and maybe used an earthier term than 'hump' ! We used to talk about stuff like that all the time. There wasn't a question I wouldn't have asked either of my parents. They might correct my terminology but they would still answer, in detail." I rolled over and squeezed him. "Now, this 'humping' talk is getting me all tingly. Care to do something about it, big guy?"

We slipped into a comfortable routine in the days that followed. Time was spent at Peck O' Fun when Karen and Timmy were in school or off on other adventures. I was becoming more familiar with the store's products and enjoyed my hours there watching the children's wide eyed excitement as they discovered new items. However, most of my hours were spent with my family.

I paid closer attention to randy Mary Ellen, Karen's older friend. I was mollified to see her friendship seemed more distant to Karen than Julie and Anne who were becoming household fixtures on our side porch. Most days, the two of us got along marvelously well, laughing and sharing fun times. Karen loved the kitchen and we cooked up a variety of exotic meals.

Our entire family spent much of our time out of doors, hiking, biking and scavenging the sea shore. Karen mentioned nothing of our tete a tete in the love chair but I would catch her paying close attention to everything I did or said. When our eyes would meet and I'd smile, she'd turn away, assuming an air of aloofness and feigned indifference. It was as if some ghost within her signaled she was displaying too much affection, getting too close to this surrogate mother. Then, after a week of this distancing, a crack in the ice occurred.