She no longer believes me when I tell her we got Hurricane from Babies R Us.
"I'm 8. Not stupid."
Right. That's what I'm afraid of.
When I was a kid I always had questions about sex. Since my mom was, well... she was herself, I always took my questions to my dad.
His response every single time was "uh. Um. Er. Let's go to the toy store!"
I had a lot of toys.
And I learned a lot about sex on the playground. And at lunch.
Do you know how to make the lunch lady nervous? Start discussing with your 5th grade buddies how many pubic hairs you now have.
I'm not kidding.
So I could go that route. Let the school and her friends teach her. Of course, she may then end up avoiding acorns because her best friend Jenny told her that her older sister who knows everything because she's in the 7th grade said that you get pregnant when a boy makes you eat an acorn.
I was such a stupid kid.
Or I could do what my MIL did. Tell her her body is evil and only whores use tampons.
Ok, I am so not doing that.
So I have to tell her something. Thing is, she's only 8. I don't want to tell her more than she really needs to know at this point.
I also don't want her to freak out one day because I didn't prepare her for her period.
And she's 8. And that could happen.
I'll take Hurricane's sleep issues over having the sex talk with her anyday.
Wish me luck. This weekend is not going to be an easy one.