Thursday, April 14, 2011

Best class!

Guys.

Do you know what the best part of Fifth Grade is? No, it's not being the oldest. No, it's not the tantalising lure of middle school (complete with lockers and a student lounge).

The best part of 5th grade is, undoubtedly, Sex Ed. Ok, so it's not the best part when you're in fifth grade, but I, for one, am psyched. Chicky and I have been predicting what the class is going to be like. Our guesses? Super. Awkward. Everyone will pretend not to care, but secretly be tremendously interested. There will be no eye contact, but plenty of uncomfortable scratching of arms. The mental image is fantastic.

"At least it will be over," Chicky said. "I mean, it's a week, but that's it."

"Yeah," I said. "You know, until next year."

She stared at me. "We do this AGAIN?"

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

I often repeat, repeat myself. I often repeat, repeat. *

 Chicky and I were talking about what the "worst" aspect of puberty would be. Somehow, this conversation (which, yes, we have had several times) is so much more successful than the "best part of puberty" version. She's convinced there is no such thing as a "good" part of puberty (except that I've promised her we'll do Something Spectacular when she gets her period for the first time.) She is especially down on puberty since she has started getting pimples (um, yesterday), so the "worst part" conversation is an excellent one to be having right now.

I mentioned at one point that, as much as puberty can suck for girls, the obvious erections boys get must be just the absolute. worst. I mentioned this to Chicky, who looked at me blankly. "The what?" she asked. I was surprised. This was not new information, we'd talked about it before. I began to explain, and got a few sentences in before she cut me off. "Oh yeah. I remember now."

I'm not sure whether she actually remembered, or had just tired of hearing me use the word "penis" in a sentence.

In either case, I managed to communicate enough of a description that I think she does, at least, know what an erection is. Still, it's an argument for repeating oneself at every opportunity.



*Poem by Jack Prelutsky