I was 11 or 12 and looking for something in the couch one day when I found the birds and the bees book my mom had gotten us. I said "mom what's this?" She said, all somber and serious, "Oh we'll have to wait for your father to get home to go over that."
My father, of course, is shy about ANY sort of conversation, never mind instructing his 12-year-old son and 11-year-old daughter on how babies are made. So we were sitting there and mom goes "well, dad, I thought we should talk to the kids about sex and how babies are made."
Dad, sitting in his recliner reading the paper: "Mmmhmm."
Mom goes into this whole serious spiel about a man and a woman and how this happens and how you should wait until marriage to do the act (I actually don't know if she said that, but given the heart attacks she had when I finally started getting laid at 33 after all the other guys I knew had put hundreds of miles on the ol' pecker, I'm sure she did). My sister and I were like, OK, fine.
Mom: "Anything you want to add, Dad?"
Dad: "Nope."
And that was The Talk. Maybe I'll ask mom if she remembers it when I see my folks this weekend, muahahahha.