I am rarely speechless. Oh sure, there was that time when doctors told me I was carrying twins and I had nothing to say for at least 10 minutes. Remember when a great deal of people re-elected George Bush? I was stumped for hours.

Thankfully, it doesn’t happen often.

Where my children are concerned, I spend a lot of time thinking about The Tough Questions, inquiries regarding sex, drugs and Justin Bieber’s popularity, to name just a few of their 5,000 concerns. So far, they’ve gotten through each question-and-answer period with little or no permanent damage and only occasionally do I need a sedative.

Until last Thursday.

I got home from work and my 10-year-old son walked past me dressed only in shorts and a baseball cap.

“I know we’re in Lutz,” I said, “but put on a shirt."

Later, I went into my room and noticed him standing in front of my Special Drawer, which was open and overflowing with X-rated secrets. My sweet and innocent son had been looking for one of his father’s oversized t-shirts.

Instead he found Grown-up Lady Toys.

This article appears in Dec 23-29, 2010.