Not Ready.

So, last night, right before bed, my oldest, Taylor, came up to me and handed me a piece of paper with a word she had written on it and asked me what it meant. She had an odd nervous smile on her face. I stared for longer than I should have at the word scrawled in her 8 year old handwriting: spirm.

I asked her where she heard that word, and she said that a boy in her class hollered it out while the class was reading a book about someone getting a baby sister. I am so not ready for this conversation!

I better dust off the book from my childhood with the roly poly parents lying "very close" and the "spirm" and egg going on a date complete with top hat and earrings.

I think I swallowed my own tongue last night while preparing my answer.