There are some things that aren’t proper to write about and some you should certainly never post. This is one of those posts, so if you think you should stop reading here, please do so. It will not be deemed appropriate by most.

If you’ve ever had a son, I’m pretty sure you’ll “get me” on this one.

On Wednesdays, at my Christian school, the faculty meets early for devotional time. They provide childcare for our children, so my son always goes to the library to play with his friends for 15-20 minutes while I am in devotional time with my staff.  Hallelujah!

This specific Wednesday, after the ending prayer, I headed to the library to pick Wes up. As I walk in to the library, the lady taking care of the children gives me, uh huh, THE EYE. You know the one. The eye where she non-verbally lets you know she needs to talk to you. (I know this particular non-verbal communication well.) The range of feelings that come after “the look” vary, but most involve sheer terror of …“Oh great. What in the world did he do? Will we be calling a parent? Will I need to give him a spanking? (Because everyone knows I have a wooden spoon on me at all times. Like, does the sun even rise every day?)

As I follow her gaze, her eyes lure me over to a quiet place in the library where we can talk “alone”. Dear Lord in the heavenly places! What in tarnation would warrant one of the oh-so-feared QUIET talks? I mean, let’s be real, you know it must be bad when you have to CIA your way into a discreet nook of the children’s library to find out what crime your kid committed. (Insert heart pounding, labored breathing, nausea and the onset of physical panic at this moment.)

She then proceeds to tell me the following:

My 6 year old had some toy out and was swinging it around his head like a lasso as high and as wide as he could. (No shocker here. I’m still thinking this is mild play at this point.) Mrs. P. tells me that she politely heads over towards his direction to make sure there is nothing dangerous going on, which let’s be honest, danger is usually the most likely explanation. (I must thank Mrs. P. at this point. She is wasting no time trying to save other children from any madness that might go down in the near future. Thank you Mrs. P.!) At this time of the story, she changes her face a bit as she begins the next statement. I see a slight crease in her mouth as if she is actually hiding a smile and maybe even a few small giggles. Hmmmm, I’m not quite sure how to respond, so my expression stays anxious. She continues and says that she kindly asks Wes, “What ya got there?”

Here’s where we hit the tripwire. 

He replies, “Oh it’s just a tampon.”


Oh yes. That is exactly what he said. And that is exactly what he had.

She asked him where he got it and he continued to tell her how he found one wrapped up in my bathroom, so he just tore it open and silently put it in his pocket, so he could play with his “whip” in the library today since we had devotions.

For. The. Love.

If there was one thing in the world I assumed would NOT be used for a weapon…but nope. Not a chance Lauren. Not a chance.  It is an innate genius with boys. They all have this implausible flair for making every single item they unearth into some piece of destruction. Today, it was my tampon.

And that was our Wednesday. Here’s to you and yours!

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