Where are my Tampons?


A picture by Rose.  This is a picture off C.C. Farmer and Rose walking around the house wearing Runningman shirts.

A untrue story by C.C. Farmer

I should have known things would not go well for the pink box of feminine products the moment the youngest son bounced it off the other son’s head. Amidst admonishing the children about flying objects, I saw the much needed box end back in the grocery bag and I gave a mental sigh of relief. I am not ready to explain feminine hygiene to 7 and 8 year old boys.  I’m still avoiding the conversation on why the guinea pig and rabbit can’t have babies and why the rabbit keeps insisting that he needs to jump on her and shake his hips.

Cabbages. All babies of any type are found under cabbages.

My oldest daughter rolls her eyes and smacks her brother with the book she is reading. “Keep that fishing pole out of my hair!”

I need a caution note for my car, beware of swinging fishing hooks and flying tampons.

Somehow I made it home without earning a orange suit or wrecking the car. We unloaded the car. We went about life for the next couple of days, until it was that time… you know the time when the husband suddenly starts to work late, the kids are hiding their chocolate supplies and your contemplating self induced menopause.

Where are my tampons?

I may be loosing it with age but I know that it is not hunting season and they are not being used for deer attractants (again). There is no way that a brand new box can only hold three items. Where are the missing 13?

A few days later, when I am naturally in a better mood, I find the missing tampons.
Did you know that if you extend the cotton filler past the plastic applicant by an 1/4 inch it makes the perfect brush. It is amazing how well children can decorate. A brush for each color and then some. I have such wonderful artists.

This is just a story. None of it is true. Absolutely none of it. No way. Nope. Nada. Ziltch. Zip. None ………….


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