What is it with my daughter’s obsession with feminine hygiene products? 

For crying out loud, she’s four. 

Okay, maybe obsession is the wrong word. More like selective amnesia.

Today, she came to me holding a tampon in a wrapper and said, “What’s this?”

What? Again?

Aren’t you the same one that held an identical tampon in a wrapper a few months ago, saying, “What’s this? A straw?” 

Each time, I had to launch into my whole uncomfortable this-is-what-happens-to-women spiel, trying my best to be both vague and uninteresting.

“Uh….um….yes! It’s a TAMPON and it’s for WOMEN….because….every month we….need it.”

“Not girls?”

(Hmm…technically yes, but OWHEADHURTING)

“Well, for older girls. Maybe.  Anyway. Want a snack?”

Maxi pads, well, those are a whole different form of entertainment. Did you know those individually wrapped pads can be dealt like playing cards? Hurled like Chinese throwing stars (ninja-style)? Tossed like confetti? Used as currency in a bizarre bartering transaction? Deployed and used as wall stickers? 

On the one hand, the entertainment value of feminine hygiene products has its benefits.  I always seem to have some with me, which comes in handy when you are stuck somewhere, waiting, without toys proper. I can always root around my purse and produce a tampon to use as a drum stick for a girl band or create a maxi pad game called “Lob the Pad into The Giant Purse.”  We’re talking hours of entertainment here. Well, at least several minutes.

On the other hand, I fear some kind of public humiliation scene involving rogue tampons and my dignity. Although, seriously? Since becoming a mother, my threshold for public humiliation has gone way up.

Which, considering the job hazards, is a very good thing.