As you know, my wife’s been off on a girl’s trip (I renamed Girl’s Camp to Girl’s Trip since there’s no camping involved) and I’m enjoying some time alone with my 4 kids. Last night I was in my room while the 3 older kids had a “sleepover” in one of their rooms. Really they just wanted a chance to play. So, I told them they could stay up a bit later if they were really quiet. I thought they’d last 10 minutes max, but somehow they were quiet the whole time. Who says miracles don’t happen anymore?
At one point my oldest son and daughter came in to see me. My daughter then asked every dad’s favorite question, “When Will My Privates Start Bleeding”?”
Talk about being blindsided with a question! What blew me away most was that it seemed to come out of no where. Let’s be honest. I didn’t even know that she at 8 years old already knew that a girl’s private parts would start to bleed. I’m 36 and I’m still trying to figure that all out. Yes, I’m not female, but you get the point.
My initial reaction to the question was to blurt out, “Don’t ask me that question! Ask your mom that question. I just know that if you’re experiencing the joys of being a female, I’m suppose to get and do whatever you want. I don’t know how it actually works.”
What you probably don’t understand is that the Crash Wife and I have an agreement. She takes care of the girl things and I’ll take care of the boy things. This was a direct breach of that agreement and I felt the need to inform my daughter that she’d need to consult her mom because my unwritten contract said I wasn’t required to answer her.
Despite this urge, I somehow sat their silently and I think I asked her some dumb question about why she was asking or something. Stall tactic! I needed to delay things while I processed how I ended up in this position with my wife out of town. Plus, I needed some time to process how I could answer her question. The delay tactic seemed to work pretty well since I replied that it depended on the girl and that she could talk to her mother more about it when she was home. A loving reply while still placing the female talk responsibility firmly with my wife.
The next day I was still chewing on why my daughter would somewhat randomly ask me about Aunt Flo (that’s what we call her in our house). I couldn’t let the topic lie, so I asked her why she was asking me about her private’s bleeding (I did actually explain to her that it’s called a period). She responded, “Oh, we wanted to sneak some snacks for our sleepover and so we needed a way to distract you. So, I just thought to ask you about it.”