Let’s not talk about sex and pretend we did

Caution: The following entry is graphic in nature in that it deals with (whisper) s-e-x and bathroom-related bodily functions. If you find frank discussions of such things unappealing or morally unsound, you're not alone, but you should click to somewhere else just in case. Last weekend, Margaret, my darling, innocent, ever-polite, 7-year-old barged in on me while I was in the bathroom. She does this quite often, plus she finds no problem with starting to disrobe on her way to the bathroom, finding no reason to actually wait until she is in the bathroom to pull down her pants. This is irritating, to say the least, and we've talked to her about it more than once. On this oh-so-horrifying day, she barged in on me and then started commenting on what she saw in the toilet: "Why is there blood in the toilet? Are you OK? Should I call Daddy?" It is precisely at these moments that I want to say anything other than the truth. But being that she is a moderately mature child and I want her to always feel comfortable with talking to me about anything that I decided to tell her the truth. I was having my period. That just inspired more questions. Gah! Why do I have to be the one who explains these things? I explained the process of the monthly menstrual cycle about which she mistakenly understood to mean that I was pregnant. Gah! Why can't she just understand perfectly without the charts and diagrams already? More explanation on my part about my period meaning that I was, indeed, not pregnant. Of course, that was not good enough and I was forced into an awkward, albeit thankfully brief, conversation about sex. To which Margaret replied, "Right and you haven't had sex in a long time." Yep, good enough for me.