Being honest with my children is something I take great pride in. Sharing the knowledge of life is something I take very seriously. And to balance that, I take Santa, our elf, and the Tooth Fairy, just as seriously. Indoctrinating my children into our faith was never a question for us. And while our faith does not necessarily teach us about the whimsical side of the holidays, the magic lies in drawing them closer to knowing that sometimes we just have to believe. As an adult, I think those magical things help us understand the importance of not understanding, but believing in things we can not conceptualize.
And so, here comes another morning where the Easter Bunny will dump some eggs on the house to seek after an early Mass. The Easter Bunny isn't a really big deal in the house, since we only refill the same plastic eggs each year with a piece of candy or pocket change. (I bought a small bag of York Peppermint Patties and then found about $1.50 in loose change to throw in some additional eggs.) And then, bought each child a fishing pole kit for about $20 each. (We really wanted to buy some after our first fishing attempt last weekend with friends.) And so, we are making "fishers of men…"
The conversation made me very uneasy. I tried to just stay quiet, and when they tried to engage me, I changed the topic and put the music on. I am not ready to explain away the lies and deception we charade around each holiday or tooth loss. They will only be young for a short period of time. And when they started asking questions, I got so nervous that I made a wrong turn getting on the highway this past week. I am not kidding. It is that upsetting to me.
However, menstruating was also a topic of discussion, and somehow, that was flawlessly executed.
Shay- How come some of our eggs are eggs we eat, and some are chickens?
(We have gone over this numerous times, but it came up again.)
And so, I then explained that it was not fertilized by the daddy, and quickly explained how girls have eggs, and we drop one a month if a daddy doesn't fertilize it. Then went quickly into explaining how girls' eggs are teeny-tiny, and we can't see them, but we know they are coming out since we bleed them out. And yes, for some reason, I realized how completely comfortable I was with this conversation, and yet, explaining the secular side of our traditions makes my palms sweat.
As for the child who was on the receiving end of the vaginal bleeding conversation? One mellow, low-key, "eww," was all I got. And then, "I think I won't have eggs for breakfast, after all."