Well, it became painfully evident this weekend that I am late off the block in having "The Talk" with my 12-year old son. Between sets on Guitar Hero this past weekend, he and his friend had a delightful discussion about the fate of Jamie Lynn Spears and her baby.

My son was astonished that the girl wasn't married and still had a baby on the way. The friend, the very bright child of two medical professionals, laid out Ms. Spears' options. They were talking over the song but I heard one option pretty clearly - she could terminate the pregnancy.

So not only do I have to have the talk about where babies come from, I have to talk about what could happen to them if you decided a baby wasn't for you. Can't say that was in my initial outline of The Talk.

It's my own fault really, for waiting this long. I could have scripted it well enough, drawing in our values and beliefs, but now I have to spin it to address all these current events in the wonderful world of teenage sex. I could have spared my son the obvious confusion when faced with this third unknown option.

I truly believe that the prospect of "The Talk" is why some parent somewhere invented the double martini.

That protective bubble I insist on keeping around my children is being pierced from all sides. The shields are failing, Captain.