Say It Isn’t So
Last night, Hugh, The Girl and I attended the 6th Grade Orientation at the Middle School. We learned where The Girl’s locker will be, how much we are expected to pay for her gym uniform, the subjects that will be covered in the school’s curriculum and exactly what it sounds like when my dried-up ovaries fall out of my pant leg and roll across the cafeteria floor, never to be seen again.
It isn’t a pleasant sound and, frankly, I would have been embarrassed where it not for the fact that all the other mothers were likewise frantically searching the floor for their rogue reproductive organs.
And, speaking of reproductive organs; the most anticipated and/or dreaded day of Fifth Grade has arrived! That’s right, today is the day that the gym teacher and the school nurse separate the boys from the girls for The Talk.
You know, The Talk. The one about ( P-U-B-E-R-T-Y.) wherein the girls learn about the onset of menstruation and the boys learn about wet dreams (I’m assuming, having never been a boy and all. It’s a relatively safe assumption, right? I mean, they aren’t exactly teaching the boys how to figure a four-point spread or the correct use of a condom. Are they? Oh my god.).
The Girl has been looking forward to this day since before school even started and, already having an extensive knowledge of the lesson’s content; doesn’t seem the least bit anxious. In fact, she seems to have a pretty laissez-faire attitude about the entire topic. She is, however, curious about what they will tell the boys about what the girls are learning and vice versa. Having "been there-done that", I predict a certain awkwardness between the boys and the girls for the rest of the day and, I can’t wait to hear all about it.
In fact, I’m looking forward to hearing her version of events way more than I am looking forward to embracing the realization that I have a daughter who is old enough to navigate the Feminine Products aisle at the Hellmouth.
Weren’t we frequent fliers in the baby products aisle like, yesterday?