Philadelphia Sex Diaries: I Have Three Kids Under the Age of 11

The honest conversations that one harried (paranoid) pair of parents has between the sheets.

“Lock the door.”

“I locked it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“I’m gonna check.”

“I locked it.”

“Okay.”

Bow chicka wow wow. 

“I’m just … I just … I just need to … ” [Get up. Wiggle doorknob. Return to position.] “It’s locked.”

“Right.”

Bow chicka wow wow.

“Did you hear that?”

“What?”

[Lean toward door. Freeze. Return to position.]

“Forget it.”

Bow chicka wow wow.

“No.”

“What?”

“Hold on.”

“What?”

“I did hear it.”

“What?”

“The squeak.”

“What squeak?”

“The stairs!”

“What?”

“The squeak …” 

Bow chicka wow … 

“… on the stairs.”

“There’s a squeak on the stairs?”

“Jesus.”

“What?”

“A squeak. Someone’s coming.”

“Are you sure?”

“Be quiet.”

“I don’t hear — ”

“Quiet. Just wait a — ”

Bow chicka …

Wait!”

[Hold breath.]

[Hover.]

Bow …

“DUDE!”

[Hover. Deep, irritated sigh.]

[Deep, irritated reply sigh.]

[Hover.]

“All clear.”

“All clear?”

“All clear.”

“Like clear clear?”

Bow chicka wow wow.

Bow chicka wow wow.

Bow chicka wow …

“Wait.”

“What?”

“Wait.”

“Whaaaaaat?” 

“I have to pee.”

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