If a story about my preschooler asking what tampons are and me having to explain it under duress makes you feel uncomfortable – don’t have kids please and scroll on by this post.

My daughter came outta the bathroom today and asked me what the box of tampons on top of the toilet were for. My husband walks by muttering, “nope nope nope nope” so I knew I was going to battle solo. I had a raging headache so I asked her if we could talk about it later. She’s super insistent at that point though so I try to go for it.

Now, we are pretty open with the girls. We use proper names and processes, and try to explain everything in the most age appropriate way we can think of. I also want her to know she can come to me with any questions (big or small), and never be shamed or lied to. I think transparency is one of the best gifts I can give her as a mother.

So I just tell her all girls (yes, I am aware of the conflicts here regarding gender, but that will be another honest conversation for another day) have a uterus in their belly, and that’s where babies grow. And if no baby comes to your uterus that month, then the uterus sheds a bit of it’s lining and blood and it comes out of the vagina. I explain that this process typically happens every month. The tampons are one way we can collect the blood in our vagina and then we dispose of them.

You guys. She looked so forking horrified. “There’s BLOODS in your ‘gina?” – *she shakes her head and scoffs* – “Why can’t you just tell your uterus there are no babies coming and to not bleed?,” she says, wringing her hands (LMAO which might be the greatest untold truth of all time). “Every month? Like 30 sleeps? And it keeps coming? Can the doctors help?”

And so now we’re re-doing our financial plan to adjust how much money we set aside for therapy because I just gave my preschooler menstruation anxiety. DON’T ASK QUESTIONS YOU’RE NOT PREPARED TO HEAR THE ANSWERS TO, KID. Rule 1 in life.

This Bento: Yumbox Panino in Neptune Blue

• cucumbers, celery, carrots, & red peppers
• sundried tomato wraps with garden vegetable cream cheese, honey ham, lettuce, and shredded cheese
• dried banana chips
• dried coconut chunks
• gummy worms
• sliced apples in a Colibri Canada snack bag

There are a lot of ways I feel unequipped to be a parent, but no more so than today.
My 4.5 year old crawled into my lap after school today. Snuggling on me, rubbing her cheeks on my leg. Then, she looks up at me with big doe eyes and says, “Mama, I want a toy vagina for Christmas.” (OKAY WHAT). My brain immediately kicks up a seizure inducing strobe light of red flags but I need to figure out why my preschooler wants a toy vagina. A TOY VAGINA.

So I ask her why she wants one with a thick coating of suspicion I cannot mask in my voice. She shrugs – “Because I can’t see my own vagina and I wanna know what they look like”, she says matter-of-factly.

Okay, I think. She’s interested in human anatomy. That’s cool. Not suspish at all. Reasonable and age appropriate. Maybe there is a female anatomical medical model or book I can get her.

“What colour of vagina toys are there, mommy?”, she asks.

PRO TIP. DON’T GOOGLE THIS. I hope I don’t die soon because whoever has to go thru my google search history will be sorry.

“I want a black one”, she says. I ask why, since she wanted a vagina toy that looks like hers so she can know what her own looks like. The only black thing about my daughter is the shadow from her pasty white ass when the sun hits her. She deadass looks at me with a stone cold stare and says, “I can’t even see mine, how am I supposed to know it’s not black?

What. The. Forking. Vagina. Monologues. Am. I. Gonna. Do?

This Bento: Yumbox Panino in Hollywood Pink

• flower ham sandwich skewers
• strawberries
• cucumbers
• cashews
• babybel cheese
• dill pickle spears
• 2 baby bananas