Determined NOT to be the children's maid this summer, I instituted CHORES.
This house has one full bathroom upstairs and a half bath (toilet and sink) downstairs. They have to each clean a bathroom before they can play on the Internet, watch teevee, or go outside. We will rotate the responsibilities after Skittles works off her debt from the Great Chocolate Caper. Until then, Skittles has the upstairs bathroom.
They are doing it right now.
Now, something bad.
Continuing in the Let's Buy You a Bra theme, I decided it was time to make sure Skittles had all her Facts of Life in order.
"Do you understand this whole menstruation thing?" I asked her yesterday morning when we found ourselves alone.
Turns out, she did not. Horrors. I am remiss.
So I found one of my many million Birthin' Babies Books and showed her some of those cutaway pictures of female anatomy.
I explained how the uterus prepares every month for the egg, which travels down the Fallopian tubes. If the egg meets sperm, it becomes fertilized and plants itself in the uterus' prepared lining. If not, then the uterus sheds that lining. This is what we call a "menstrual period" I told her.
She burst into tears.
"For how long?" she sobbed.
Me: "Oh, maybe five to seven days each month."
Her: "EVERY month?"
Me: "Well, yeah. Until you get to be about my age. Then it stops."
Cue Lucille Ball-style wailing.
A little while later she is talking on the phone with her father, who is calling from Moscow. I overhear her side of the conversation.
He must have asked "How are you?"
Her: "Mama told me something BAD . . ."
He must have asked her what that was.
Her, crying again: "The uterus sheds its prepared lining!"