....  "Well, you know!  You can't start admonishing a young child for his natural curiosity.  You risk ruining him for life!  Affecting his sexual well being or whatever."

"Well, can you talk to him again?"

I knew it.  When it came to straightforward discussions about sex and the differences between men and women, my husband obviously failed his son miserably.  Somewhere along the line, he was taught father and son just don't talk about that stuff.  And that made it my responsibility: Joey's stepmother.  At least one of us was responsible enough to help guide a young boy through all the questions and curiosities of growing up.

"Of course," I reassured. 

"You're wonderful," my husband quickly replied with real relief.  "You're a really wonderful mother to him.  I could never..."

"I know.  That's obvious," I teased.  "Now, go help your son finish up his homework, and I'll figure out dinner.  We don't want to frighten him or make this into anything bigger than it really is.  I'll just talk to him after dinner again."

"You're a doll."  My husband kissed me on the cheek and hurried out of the kitchen and away from the problem of his son entering puberty.

I couldn't help feeling a little bit embarrassed for offering Joey such a realistic portrayal of female breasts the night before.  It was obvious that his first lesson in female anatomy was effective.  Maybe too effective.  I'd just have to take his attention away from breasts.  Somehow.  Thinking about it, I was even a bit proud to be in a position to teach one young man in the world to look a woman in the eye instead of into her cleavage.

After the usual family dinner filled with lots of smiles and my husband and I listening to Joey's latest tales from school—minus the most pertinent points he didn't realize his parents were aware of—the three of us played a board game together, watched a bit of television, and then it was time for little Joey to be tucked into bed.

"Ah, come on!" he whined.

"Now," his father confirmed in a stern but gentle tone.

It was the same thing every night.  No child wants to go to bed and force an end to their fun.  Worse yet, little Joey didn't realize he was in for another serious discussion at tuck-in time.  Poor little guy.

"Take your toys with you," I reminded Joey.  "Brush your teeth, and I'll come up to tuck you in."

When I heard the faucet in the bathroom turned off, I met Joey in the hallway.  "Ready for bed?"

"If I have to."

"Come on... tomorrow's another day, and it'll be here before you know it."  I forced a cheery smile, hoping to get Joey in a better mood before somehow bringing up the subject of his inappropriate behavior at school that day.

Joey jumped onto his small bed and buried himself under the covers faster than I could follow him into his bedroom.  He had way too much energy to fall asleep, but at least he'd be well awake for our little talk.

"Did you have fun at school today?" I asked as I closed the door to his room and perched myself on the limited space on his bed beside him.

"Yeah!  Remember?  Sarah Wheatley did that thing that made Marcus—"

"Oh... that's right.  I remember.  Yeah, I suppose that was pretty exciting.  But it's time for bed now, okay?  Time to wind down and... well, is there anything else you want to talk about?"

"Um..."  Joey's brain was churning away, deep in real thought as he hurried to review his entire day in one moment.  "No," he answered and just smiled at me.

His smile was sincere, but his view—I couldn't possibly help noticing—landed on my chest.  More specifically, on my breasts.

"Um, Joey?"

"Uh-huh," he answered, his eyes never leaving the shape of my bosom tightly outlined by my clingy tank top.

"Joey, do you want to know something that makes grown men different from little boys?"  ....