Friday night the boys and I were on the sidelines of Daddy’s soccer game. It was a beautiful summer evening. We were enjoying the great weather, the fact that it was the start of the weekend, and the rare opportunity to watch their Daddy play.
Before the game started, the boys were kicking around a ball – naturally. Because isn’t that what you do EVERY.WAKING.MOMENT when there’s nothing else to do? No? Okay, well they were.
As the game was about to start, they returned to our sitting blanket. The Eldest had something in his hand that he had clearly found in the grass. It looked like one of those small, hard cases for reading glasses. You know – the kind you can get in the drug store. I was wrong.
“What’s that?” I inquisitively ask.
“I don’t know” replies The Eldest.
And as I looked closer, I noticed that you can pull it apart. And it opens. And . . . THERE’S 2 TAMPONS INSIDE! (I will take the time to mention that they were new, unused and still wrapped. Your welcome.)
It was just like this – only black .

Once the case was open, and it’s little wrapped contents were revealed, questions ensued. Now I will say that The Eldest and I have had chats about boys vs. girls, babies, birth and the like. But we have not yet gotten down to the nitty-gritty of Aunt Flo, a girl’s monthly visitor. Because really? I prefer to impart required info on an age appropriate and need-to-know basis. I’m not at all shy about discussing such subjects with them, but at age 10, I didn’t think this particular topic was on the priority list quite yet.
The Eldest: “What are those?”
Me: my voice in a whispering manner as I lean in closer, so as to give the impression that its private information and we’re not going to be having a big discussion/explanation about it here on the soccer sidelines, surrounded by other families “Oh, those are just girl things.”
Clearly not enough info. My fault.
The ever-curious Youngest: “What kind of girl things?”
And I know he’s thinking that perhaps they might be some type of toy or jewelery or something fun that he could play with.
Me: again with the whispering, private voice “You know, for their vershinas” (it’s their slightly incorrect terminology, but kinda cute so I don’t bother correcting them quite yet)
And then I tell a little white lie to get out of the situation.
“It’s just some special cream.” Followed quickly by “We should just put it down now – it’s not ours” so as to prevent any thoughts The Youngest would likely have about opening the little packages to investigate the cream further.
At which point I started wondering – how long till they discover my en-suite bathroom drawer filled with wrapped up little “vials of cream”?
But there the subject died. Either they didn’t find it at all interesting, or the soccer game acted like a memory eraser because there were no follow up questions on the drive home. Or all weekend for that fact. Because I was expecting it. And I was ready.
What would you have said they were? How do you feel about having “The Talk” with your kids? There’s nothing wrong with a little white lie, is there?