I’m keeping mum about sex education

9:14am Monday 4th February 2008

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As far as I know, neither of my children have been shown how to put a condom on a cucumber.

For me that's a worry, and I may have to take the matter up with their teachers because, according to reports, most schoolchildren have been taught how to master this skill.

In many cases, that's the only thing they have been taught on the subject of sex, and it has prompted a move by the Government that could see children aged nine being given sex advice booklets.

The very mention of the word sex' sends my nine-year-old into fits of giggles. She only has to hear it on the TV or radio and the sniggers start. My 11-year-old reacts in much the same way. The pair of them obviously know something about it, and they must have picked it up at school.

I haven't yet broached the subject, but I've got a cucumber in the fridge, and a load of odd socks - they make great woolly condoms - so the time may be ripe.

Not all of us are up to this job. Do we simply sit our children down and tell them like it is - wham, bam, thank you ma'am? Or do we ramble on about being in a loving, caring relationship?

I don't think my children will buy that one. "Were you and daddy in one of those when you had us or have you always shouted at each other and called each other names?"

I keep making attempts to talk to my eldest daughter about periods, but she's not having any of it. "Do you know anything about it, do any of your friends have periods," I ask. "NO, mum," she replies, avoiding eye contact. "We don't talk about things like that."

The nine-year-old, on the other hand, is keen to know everything, but is totally repulsed by the idea. "Urrgh, that's horrible," she says.

At least neither of them will have to face the trauma of buying sanitary protection from embarrassed shopkeepers, like I had to as a teenager.

To the man who ran our village shop, handling a packet of tampons was like holding a grenade. In the blink of an eye he would shove the box inside a plain brown paper bag and, turning his face to one side, shove it across the counter towards me. Many a time I went in for tampons only to emerge with a packet of crisps or bar of chocolate because I couldn't face the ordeal.

Some say nine is too young, and that sex education will promote sex among youngsters. I say catch them young. They will snigger and giggle, but they can handle it. They won't squirm and shuffle about, red faced, like older children.

I'm thinking about leaving my two in a locked room with a video of Last Tango in Paris. They'll assume it's about someone chasing around the French capital after a can of pop, and so what if they're a little shocked by the contents.

Due to my inattention, they've already sat through an explicit film in an adults only' room at the Tate Modern. They thought it was hilarious and remember it far more vividly than any other exhibit.

And learning from others - whether teachers or the TV - is infinitely better than hearing it from me. They're wise enough to know that, with sex matters, I'm hardly the voice of experience.