I’ve said a lot of things I never dreamed I would say since becoming a parent.
You know, like
We do not smell each other’s butts.
Why is there a tampon in the Christmas tree?
Is that poop on the refrigerator?
But yesterday I said something that I never in a million years imagined would come out of my mouth.
Two and a half years ago,
when I gave birth to my little baby girl,
and looked down at her sweet little face,
and I envisioned all the fun things we would do together,
and all the mother daughter conversations we would share,
I never dreamed that one of them would begin with the sentence:
You don’t try to put golf balls in your vagina.