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'Family Feud' Is Our Go-To Sex Ed Guide

Steve Harvey will teach your kids about sex.

Steve Harvey will teach your kids about sex.

If you want to talk about sex with your kids and need an icebreaker, look no further than the Game Show Network. Settle in on the couch with your kids and some cozy blankets, tune into Family Feud (which won't be hard because it's always on) and just wait for the bombs to drop.

The blankets are very important. You'll see why.

This is no longer your grandma's Family Feud. Host Steve Harvey hosts a whole new ball game, one in which your mama screams "dong," your dad yells "masturbate" and your uncle shouts "hard-on!"

If the family doesn't say it, the survey board does: condom becomes "weenie beanie," testicles become "man berries" and penis becomes "baloney pony."

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The questions sound like a drunken frat house game of Scattergories:

Name something you put in your mouth but don't swallow.

Tell me something a bride wants to be huge.

What's a word that describes how you like men AND candy.

If you are watching Family Feud with your kids, prepare to explain.

I learned that my 15-year-old boy knows way more about sex than I thought he did. My 12-year-old girl is not as up-to-date (she hasn't met that friend yet, dang it) and hates it when everyone gets the joke but her.

Case in point:

"When people talk about the big one, what might they be referring to?" Steve Harvey asks with a straight face.

"Orgasm!" mommy yells.

"HA! HA!" my husband and I guffaw.

My son puts a blanket over his head.

"What's an orgasm?" my daughter asks.

My husband and I stare at each other with buggy eyes: Who is going to take this question? I already know it's me, cuz it sure as hell won't be my hubby or Steve Harvey.

"What's an orgasm?" she repeats, because we're taking too long.

"I'll explain later," I say.


I always do explain, but she has to wait for the end of the show, because come on. It's not life or death. To some people.

"What's an orgasm?" she repeats, because we're taking too long.

On one cringe-worthy show, Steve asks:

"When you were a kid, name something you used as a partner to practice kissing."

The guy bashes the buzzer and shouts "SIBLING!"

"WHAT?" my daughter says.

"Oh, oh, ugh" my son groans, looking up at the ceiling. Blanket deployed.

"WHAT? SERIOUSLY?" shrieks my daughter. "GROSS!"

Then BING: "Sibling" is on the board.

My daughter demands to know if this is natural. "Do people really do that?" she prods her brother.

No movement from the blanket.

"Uh, I don't know," I cut in.

"But the answer is up there!"

My son leaves for his room and shuts the door.

When I first tuned in I was rather appalled, to be honest, thinking it just wasn't suitable for family entertainment. What happened to the "family" in Family Feud, what Steve Harvey calls, straight to our faces, "wholesome, Christian entertainment," as he teasingly berates a contestant for giving the erotic answer the writers are obviously seeking.

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But that was just a matter of crushed expectations: I couldn't imagine ol' skeevy-kisser Richard Dawson shouting "Yank your wanker!"—on TV at least.

And the more frank conversations I had "later" with my daughter, the more I realized what great things this show is doing for us. Once I adjusted my expectations, I realized something:

Family Feud is the perfect sex barometer.

I don't wonder as much about how much my son knows; I only have to count the number of times the blanket goes over his head. If he looks at us in confusion, Dad explains "later."

I should be having these conversations with my daughter anyway, so why not let Steve Harvey get the ball rolling? I can go way beyond the banana that her school's sex ed teacher brought in as a prop.

"Which of the seven dwarves describes your wife in bed?" inquires Steve Harvey.

Family Feud helps our family to communicate more openly about sex—because it doesn't just explain basic biology. It covers first dates, breakups, blow jobs, lovemaking, foreplay, pregnancy, masturbation, birth control, menstruation, breasts, penises, asses, sexual slang and innuendo. It covers the "culture" surrounding sex, which is hard to explain in a classroom or in the family.

We even use the term "Family Feud" as an adjective, as in: "The boys at my lunch table were acting very Family Feud today."

So while the show has gotten raunchy and not really kid-friendly, per se, I have embraced its merits. Hell, I even use Family Feud to talk about sex with my husband:

"Which of the seven dwarves describes your wife in bed?" inquires Steve Harvey.

Two young husbands stand like statues at the buzzer. One shakes his head and the other backs away from the dinger. Both refuse to ring in. Steve Harvey rests his hands on the podium and nods knowingly.



"Those are some smart guys right there. True gentlemen," I say to my husband. "Don't you think?"

"Yep," he says, pulling the blanket over his head, because $20,000 is a lot of money.

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Image via ABC

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