I've been driving the boys to school in the morning. The commute is quick. Sometimes we talk and sometimes we don't. Kevin usually asks me to flip to the sports radio station, but with such a quick drive if it is in a commercial I keep flipping around.

 

Sitting at a traffic light just moments from dropping off the boys, I flip to a station and the word "lesbian" is uttered in the station's first breath. I quickly punch at the radio...maybe with a slightly heightened punch than before.

Scottie: "What's a lesbian?"

 

The light turns green. For a moment I panic, worried that I won't be able to explain it correctly in terms that he'll be able to full grasp.  Before I can formulate an answer, big brother Kevin speaks from the back with a bit of annoyed edge on his voice.

Kevin: "Oh, Scott. You should know that. It's a country in the middle east."

 At first when Kevin decided to field the question, I felt a bit relieved. But, when I heard his answer I had to quickly step in. I was actually more concerned with Kevin's tone than the content of his answer. I know how to deal with "tone."

Greg: "No, Kevin that's not what it means."

 Sort of hoping to tame his tone through shame.  But Kevin has all the stubbornness in his genes that you would expect.

Kevin: "Well I guess it isn't the country, but it's the language they speak in the country," he receipts. The tone lives on.

My head is spinning. I have two problems. Maybe more. The car comes to a stop. Drop off edicate suggests that children must exit the vehicle quickly and efficiently to allow for a steady stream of drop offers.

Scott bolts from the car with a "bye Dad" with Kevin on his heals. I taught my boys nothing on our 10 minute commute. But I'm ready for the lesbian conversation now.