Looks like this week of blog entries is really just one unending story.
So, after I bought my wife her regular, super maxi, with wings, mochacchino feminine hygiene products, I drove back home with the loot in tow. While my wife and daughter were hanging out in the living room, I started putting the groceries away in the adjacent kitchen.
"Hey babe," I said, "I bought your tampons."
"Geez, what's with all those crazy sizes?" I riffed, realizing that this was the potential beginning of an oh-so-hilarious blog entry. "I mean, maxi, super, jumbo. Ha ha! It's crazy!"
"I eventually bought the one that had most of the words that you put on the shopping list."
"Those tampons boxes are pretty crazy though. Ha ha!"
I then put away the rest of the groceries, mumbling about tampons, completely oblivious to the fact that my wife had kept up her end of the conversation using only grunts and one-word replies. She accosted me hours later.
"Don't talk about tampons around the kid!!" she stage-whispered to me.
"Huh?" I parried.
"Look, unless YOU want to explain menstruation to a five year-old, I suggest that you don't discuss my tampons around her. I was hoping to put off that discussion for a little longer."
Apparently there is no aspect of menstruation that I'm good at. Not the shopping, or the discussing, or even the vaginal bleeding. It's a failure I can live with though.