Bathroom stall
My oldest and I are sharing a bathroom and after she gets off I decide this is probably the best option for emptying my bladder for the rest of the day, so I pop a squat. I am vaguely aware that someone else has entered the bathroom and is occupying the stall next to us.
Oldest Child: mommy why is your vagina full of hair.
Me: um... Because of a little thing called puberty.
OC: What's that?
Me: (sigh) It's when you get older and your body goes through a lot of changes and you start to grow hair on your vagina.
OC: like when I'm 5?
Me: Dear God, no! Not when your 5. More like 12 or 13 or if your father had his way 52.
OC: Then I get married?
Me: Yes, when your 50.
OC: Noooo! (she rolls her eyes) When I'm 12.
Me: No, that is highly illegal in most, if not all states. You have to be at least 18. Or 30. Or if your father had his way 52.
OC: Oh... is that when you have a baby?
Me: No, you're supposed to get married first. (muttering to myself) Though, I'm starting to see that tradition die out faster and faster every year.
OC: I'm gonna marry Justin Beiber.
Me: Um. He may be a little old for you and too sheltered. I don't know if he could handle you, baby.
OC: And then we have a baby.
Me: Okay creeper, jumping the gun a bit? You have to have sex first. (oh crap!)
OC: What's sex?
This is when I become fully aware that there is a little old lady in the stall next to me who is definitely listening to every word. At this point, I realize there is no sense in sugar coating it. I got myself into this mess, I've gotta dig my way out. There's nothing better then the truth to get people judging you. So I tell it like it is... fast.
 |
| mommy, please scar me for life. |
I scrabble through the sentence more for the benefit of the lady next to me then for my own daughter who already has a basic idea of how that works. Lord knows, she's walked into my bedroom enough times. OC's face starts to contract into a grimace then explodes into a laugh.
OC: Noooo! You don't touch someone else's privates.
Me: That's correct.
OC: Only mommy, daddy and a doctor.
ME: that's right.
Hoping the conversation is over I stand up to flush. As I do so, my daughter reaches up and fondles my breasts. With? Didn't we just have this conversation? Apparently mommies don't count.
OC: Will I have boobies too?
Me: ugh! yes, when you get older.
OC: Like 5?
Me: You might as well just kill your father now. No, not 5. Like 12.
OC: When I have hair on my vagina like you?
Aaaaand... we have come full circle. The only two thing I have learned from this conversation is that 1. my kids will only have these kind of conversations with me in public places and 2. That I am getting a full brazilian next time make it to the waxers.
Antenella
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