Feminine napkins and me

My wife and I have three children.  My son is fourteen and my two daughters are twelve and ten.  Though change is constant and swift for them (and us) in the fertile ground of adolescence, there is one change that is hitting me hard in the stomach – and it involves the feminine napkin.

I know what they are and what they're used for.  Heck, I sometimes find them in my gym bag enmeshed with my workout clothes from the wash.  Generally, I don't give them much thought.  Until now. 

When my wife sprung the box of feminine napkins on me one evening, she
was preparing me for the inevitable and imminent use of those "things"
by my little girl.  My little girl having a period! It was more like an
exclamation point. I somehow never imagined her ever needing and using them.  What was I thinking?

I'll tell you. She's my little girl; my snuggler at night, and reading companion by day.  She's the little girl that sits on my lap and kisses me on the cheek.  She's the little girl whose little bottom I wiped clean and dressed with a diaper.  She's the little girl that scibbled love notes with crayons to me on a regular basis. She's the little girl that stole my heart.

Those feminine napkins seemed like thieves.  I saw them as conniving to steal my little girl from me. They were repulsive to my sensibilities.

I was in avoidance mood.  But as is the case, I had to be a big boy and embrace those napkins for what they symbolize – vibrant life and progression into a future that cannot be halted. Her life is vibrant. Always has been, always will be.  Our life together is vibrant. Always has been, always will be.  Feminine napkins will be around.  Always have been, always will be.

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