Sometimes I forget that my 10 year old isn't my buddy

Traffic in this area is a fickle mistress. I leave work at 4pm on days that Henry has soccer practice so I can get home, get him in uniform, put some food down his neck and drive to the practice field. Most days we get there just in time. On Wednesday we were 30 minutes early.
On those days we chat. Sometimes I say too much. Henry is an only child who spends most of his time around adults and in many ways behaves like an adult. He's also pretty smart with a fairly sophisticated sense of humour. But these are all excuses. Most of these conversations in the car are pretty benign and he'll talk about something some kid does at camp, but once in a while he asks some pretty serious questions. This week he asked me about condoms.

"You just buy them at the store?"

"Yep. You can buy them loads of places. You can buy them online now, but that wasn't around when I was of condom buying age."

"OMG! GROSS! You bought condoms?"

"Yah. And I found it mortifying. You had to ask for them at the till. As a matter of fact this one time I was buying them at a Mac's Milk in Windsor and the guy behind the counter was a middle aged Chaldean and his English wasn't strong. There was a huge line behind me and I was trying to be discrete. So I said very quietly,`I'd like to buy some condoms` and the man behind the counter said, `You want to buy my gar-r-rbage?` (I said rolling the r's as best I could). `No!` I exclaimed and then more quietly added,`I want to buy condoms`. `WHAT? Garrrbage?` the man yelled. `No!`, I said, `Rubbers! Johnnies! Sheiks! A sheath for my ole fella!` `Ooohhhhhhh!!!` the man spat, `Cr-r-ream or no cr-ream?`"