Mom: Have a seat on the couch, honey. There’s something your father and I would like to talk to you about. And for once, it’s not your grades!

Dad: Barbara, please. Anyway, we were talking, and look – we know you’re having sex. You’re in college. I had sex with tons of women in college.

Mom: You met me at the end of first semester freshman year, Ron.

Dad: That was a tremendous October.

Mom: The point is, your father and I have been making love since the White Album came out, and we think it’s time that you know how we’re doing it. So you can learn the tricks of the trade.

Dad: We started off simple. Missionary, you know. Your mother doesn’t like to be on top.

Mom: I do enough work around here!

Dad: But she got adventurous soon enough. One night, we were going at it the usual way, when suddenly I put your mother’s knees to her head and clutched her face with my hands. Her legs were up and wiggling all over the place.

Mom: We looked like a ladybug trying to get upright!

Dad: Well, she was hooked. She went right out to the library and borrowed a copy of the Kama Sutra. Can you believe it? This from a woman who won't even eat at an Indian restaurant!

Mom: I don't like spicy foods.

Dad: I told you, not all the food is spicy!

Mom: From there, the sky was the limit. Your father has entered me from every angle mathematically possible. We used to just sit around making up new positions, until he had the heart trouble and the ulcer.

Dad: We’ve also done it in every room of the house. And every room of the neighbors’ house.

Mom: Don’t tell the Thompsons. But you know, our favorite place to do it is in your bed, because it’s a twin. Restriction leads to inspiration… it’s like writing poetry with meter.

Dad: Speaking of which, are you familiar with the poem “The Red Wheelbarrow?” Because that’s the position we were in when you walked in on us.

Mom: He doesn't remember the time he walked in on us. He was only five.

Dad: No, I'm sure he does. He stood there for a moment before he ran away. You remember, right?

Mom: Anyway, these days, we have strange habits about reaching orgasm. Your father can’t climax unless Foreigner is playing. And me… well, you tell him about my thing.

Dad: For your mother, sex is intrinsically tied to emotion. And her happiest memory is of the day we became a family. So the only way she can get off is if I pleasure her with a dildo wrapped in photos of you and your sister.

Mom: Don’t worry, they’re baby photos.

Dad: The point is, everyone has their thing, so you need to be open to experimenting.

Mom: That’s right. In fact, let’s go to that Indian restaurant tonight!

Dad: Barbara, look at you! This is why I love your mother.

They kiss passionately.

Dad: Family dinner time!