Female Issues and Six-Year-Old Boys.

When I go into public restrooms, I usually have to bring the kids with me unless Superman is around. Mr. C has consistently asked what those "silver boxes" on the wall of the bathroom are. You know, the ones that you put a quarter into. I've always skirted the issue, just saying that they are for girls.

A little while back, Mr. C and I were at the doctor. It was fantabulous since I just had him. I love it when I get to do things one-on-one with our kids. We could be at the dentist and I'd be happy.

But, I digress. On our way out, we stopped by the restroom. Mr. C asked me again, "What is that silver box for on the wall?" I told him that it was for girls and that it really wouldn't be interesting to him. Here's how the rest of the conversation went:

Him: "I don't care."

Me: "Honey, it's really gross, and you wouldn't want to know." (Why I said the word "gross" to a six-year-old and then expected him to drop the subject, I'll never know...)

Him: "Just TELL me!"

Me: "Maybe when you're older."

Him: "I am older! Just tell me!"

Me: "Ok, but you have to promise you're not going to joke about it with your brothers or sisters."

Him: "Ok, OK!"

I proceeded to tell him, in simple terms, about what happens to women each month. I told him those things in the "silver box" were like band-aids. He seemed content with that answer. But when we got to the car, he said, "Can I see?" I told him no, like we've told him before, it's not nice to see other people's privates. He said, "But a doctor could."

"Yes," I said "That's true."

To which he replied,

"I wanna be THAT kind of doctor!"

Yikes. I told him he can be that kind of doctor if he wants, but it'll take him another 8 years beyond high school to get there. He didn't think it sounded as appealing then.