Yes, they know that girls develop breasts sometime between being their age (6 & 9) and my age ( grown*) but, as I found out a couple weeks ago, they have no idea how one gets from point A to point B. Hell, maybe they believe there is a boob fairy; second cousin twice removed of the tooth fairy (she’s a giver).
Anyways, as the mom of two little girls who will one day be young ladies I try to make it my mission to make life full of “teachable moments”. I’ve gotten pretty good at it too, if I do say so myself.
Flowers on the side of the road at a makeshift memorial, I explain how young drivers should always be on the defensive and not be texting or on the phone. I explain that driving is a full-contact sport that demands all of your attention or you could end up with a memorial on the side of the road or causing someone else’s memorial on the side of the road. Vomiting and dizzy from the stomach flu, I see the perfect opportunity to discuss the effects of alcohol and relay how this is exactly how it feels when you drink too much. By the way, my 6-year-old has committed herself to never drinking more than half a beer and then calling a cab.
Sometimes that backfires on me like the time she was frantic that to have a baby the doctor must cut you open and rip the baby out (my sister had a c-section after the baby was stuck) so to “help” I explained that babies come into the world via your vagina and there isn’t usually a surgery in which a doctor cuts your stomach open. I thought I was helping. She went ghost white, looked down at her vagina, sized up the situation and has sworn off children for her lifetime. Wait until she realizes that sex is what puts babies into bellies that come out of vaginas.
So, the other day, as I was driving our daughters to ballet, we passed a coed group of neighborhood kids playing basketball in a driveway. Immediately, the girls began to argue whether or not a slender, young girl was in fact a “boy” or a “girl”.
Then, I hear this from my backseat.
6-year-old: “That was a girl who just made that basket. Girls play basketball!”
9-year-old: “Yeah, well, it was a boy because his chest was FLAT like a pancake!”
I explain to them that girls can be flat chested. And some girls develop breasts later than others. In fact, I was completely flat chested until I was 15. I am talking undershirt city. Hell, they stopped making undershirts big enough for a girl that old. Back then, a camisole wasn’t even an option and tank tops were only for summer, not a fashion layering piece. My girls and anyone who has met me knows that I am no longer flat chested. Apparently, good things come to those who wait.
Take that girl, who shall remain nameless, who got her size B boobs at 11 and liked to point out the fact that I didn’t need a bra yet. My size D’s say hellllloooooo.
9-year-old: “ Uhm, mom….YOU have MELONS!”
Giggle.Giggle. Rabble. Rubble.
6-year-old, very concerned, “Mommy, I don’t want melons. I want apples!”
Me: “ Well, kiddo, you get whatever God and genetics give ya! Sorry.”
6-year-old: “Mommy, what’s genetics?”
Me: “It’s the genes you get passed down from your parents.”
Immediately, I see terror in her eyes and then I hear this.
6-year-old, head bowed and whispering a prayer, “Dear God, please don’t give me melons. I want juicy apples! In the name of the father, the son & the Holy Spirit! Amen!”
I look in the rear view mirror and see her doing the sign of the cross.
Then I died….laughing (on the inside like any good mom.)