“How,” my twelve year old daughter asks me, “Do you make out with a vampire without cutting your tongue on his fangs?”
“First of all,” I reply, “You should never make out with anyone until you’re thirty two. Second of all, steer clear of vampires until they’ve gone to fang school. All vampires should go to fang school to learn to kiss properly.”
“Hmmm.” She says, clearly amused, both by the concept of fang school and the dictate to wait until she’s thirty two.
I continue. “Besides, vampires are cold. Let’s just say that when you’re thirty two, you meet a nice vampire and decide to kiss him. His lips are going to be cold. Like a corpse. Worse, his toes are going to be cold. If you marry this nice vampire when you’re thirty five and decide to sleep with him, when you’re forty one, he isn’t going to be able to warm your feet on a cold winter’s night. I ask you, why bother sleeping with him if he can’t warm your feet?”
“It could be good on a hot day,” she answers. She’s twelve. She always has an answer. Then she asks, “How do you have so much experience with vampires, Mom?” She’s twelve. She always has a question.
“Mother knows all, dearest. Mother knows all.”
“Sure, Mom.”
