Longundergotchies are for winter. I remember my dad telling us in the morning that we would need long gotchies because it was cold outside. And I would groan and freak out that my dad said “gotch” so he would say ok, for you long unmentionables. I usually forget that gotch/gitch gonch/ginch is a Canadianism.
My son should have figured out that some girls still like to kiss men with beards. My boyfriend’s facial hair will frequently run from clean shaven, to several days growth, then occasionaly turn into a goatee for a while, before he gets frightened by the white in his beard and shaves his face again.
My son really has only a rudimentary knowledge of female anatomy, that was why I was going to talk to him about things, but he has NO INTEREST and he knows all he has to know.
I remember being the same age and walking away from my mother in the library when she showed me a book called (and I remember the title to this day) “Girls are girls and boys are boys, so what’s the difference.” (ah the 1970s!) My cousin wrote in a book her mom gave her about the facts of life. (I now have this book due to a series of moves by each of us in the 1990s)
“Deer Momy. NOTHANKYOU for this book. I do not want to read it. No thankyou. Not rite now i do not want to read this book. Thankyou Mommy for this book. No thank you for reading it rite now, maybee latter. When I am old or a tenageer.”
Oh and for the Brits on the board, “bum” means buttocks, not anything else.