Gay Dad

It's D-Day. Or perhaps I should call it G-Day: the day I've decided to tell the children I'm gay. I barely slept last night at the thought of it. The conundrum is not only how will they react, but how do I bring the subject up in the first place. Do I pull a grave face as I tell them to sit down and listen carefully to what I'm about to say, which makes it sound like my gayness is a terminal disease? Or do I casually drop it into the conversation over lunch while busily pouring on some salad dressing? Or do I disappear into the bedroom and pop back out dressed like Grayson Perry and yell, "Surprise!"? I don't want to make it sound all serious and weird, yet neither do I want to treat it so flippantly that I don't give them a chance to think about it properly. I don't know why it's all such a big deal. Does it really matter in 2012 who lives in my home and who I let touch my willy? It's just the fact that they are my children and quite naturally assume, since I was happily married to their mother for six years, that I'm straight. And so this might be a bit of a surprise: their dad isn't quite who they thought he was. And I believe children like their parents to be exactly who they think they are. Oh dear.