I’m just not ready to go there

There are some conversations that, no matter which way you look at it, are just too awkward for words.

In this house, we have a family bathroom. Said bathroom doesn’t have a cabinet under the sink, where one would normally store one’s feminine…erm…products. I did buy a nifty little shelf thingy at Ikea, but its not much for discretion.


Last night, after her bath, when Pea squatted down to select the toothbrush of the evening (yes, she needs to have options, even with toothbrushes), she spied the bag containing tampons and feminine pads.

Uh-huh, you so know where this is going, don’t you..

“Mommy, what are THOSE for???” A snort from behind me revealed my husband, red in the face, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. He nodded my way and said “this one is all yours”.

My mind blanked, and stuttered and stammered. The story about the little boy who set the dinner table with his mother’s napkins “for special times” blew through my head, as a warning, perhaps, about trying to be too clever.

Being too clever with your kids always comes back to bite you in the ass. Trust me on this one.

I looked helplessly at the Hubs, who now had to turn around, shoulders shaking harder, I’m assuming more at MY predicament than the original question. I looked at Pea, who smiled up at me encouragingly.

My brilliant response?

“Time to brush your teeth, Pea. Those are Mommy’s. Its a grown up thing.”

“…but Mommy, what are dey fowr?”

“Its just a Mommy thing, sweetie. C’mon, brush those teeth.”

Yes, I totally copped out. I’ll admit it. The time will come, but there was NO way I was getting into a discussion of menstrual cycles with my just-turned-4 year old, in front of my almost-6-year old, at 7:00 at night.

Nope, she can learn just like I did – with a then-banned-by-our-parents (but now updated*) copy of

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