Mom I have a paper you need to sign...ugh.
No sweetie, I'm definitely NOT signing this one.
Amanda had squeamishly handed me a piece of paper that wretched up a memory or two within me: the dreaded puberty talk at school. The girls would be meeting with a couple female teachers, the boys with a couple male teachers.
I remember being in fifth grade, sitting with all the girls in our class - we were in the locker room at the gym. The film was one of those ancient contraptions where the teacher had to turn the knob to advance the film that the she spent twenty minutes wrestling into the machine to begin with. The audio sat in it's own machine on the second shelf, the news reporter-like voice explaining what was going to happen with our bodies, then beeping when it was time for teach to turn the knob.
I recall one slide that was a rudimentary drawing of a white girl's body, with a triangle of brown color to warn us what "down there" would eventually look like. I don't know about you, but mine didn't turn out like a neat little patch of light brown felt. I was a wrangly mess till I eventually learned I could tame it, way too many years later.
To say I was a prude would be an understatement.
There were nervous giggles, and even though no one wanted to be looking at the images that were warning us of our periods, breasts, and pubic hair, all eyes were fixed straight ahead. Even worse than seeing those images however, would have been being caught making eye contact with someone. I don't recall learning anything new during that talk - three older sisters made sure of that!
Mom you have to sign the form if you DON'T want me to attend - you've already taught me everything I need to know!
Hehe...I'm well aware of that Amanda and you're goin! Yes, being the awesome mom that I am, you probably know more about what's going on than any other girl in your class but you're gonna suffer through it like every other fifth grader in town!
Parenting at its finest.