Childproofing a Lustful Craving
One of the biggest challenges of parenting pre-school kids in my line of work is painting a huge amount of decency in and out of the house. Like most, if not all, writers, I have a tall pile of references to help me succeed in every writing endeavor. Given my mature genre, you would be right to assume I have countless books on eroticism – because I do.
I treat my adult content materials like Aspirin tablets or sources of lead. I have to keep them out of reach of children, or else they will suffer poisoning of its worst kind. The kind which activated charcoal at maximum dosages and lavage by expert gastrologists could do nothing about. Staining the purity of a child’s mind is irreversible. And I strive to preserve the innocence of my little ones until they come of age. Their mom is a writer. They know that much. One day, they will ask, “of what”?
And I will tell them of love and its wildest human expression. Eyes that mirror an undeniable desire, lips that breathe a sigh of intense and heated longing, a mouthful of bite in all the intimate private places, the breaking of sweat after the sensual act of couples – all these and more, at the right time. Always, at the right time – or so I thought.
Rare moments of glimpses on the television introduced me to a whole new meaning of eating a burger. Staring at it as if it were a snowflake in June, holding it as if it were a bottle of water in a desert, chomping it as if it were a piece of bread after a month-long famine – where have I seen that before? It took time to put my thoughts together until I realized it’s a scene from at least one chapter…of my every novel! My kids saw that, certainly more than once or twice.
Maybe it’s just me and my endless bouts of erotic fantasies. But I think I just unraveled an unlikely analogy. So when my kids catch me staring at their daddy playfully and ask, “Mom, are you okay?” I would let out a big smile and say, “Of course, I’m just craving for a burger. ”
Just like that – I will see burger differently. Forever.
Eat like you mean it,
Sandra Ross
