Remember When?

          My darling girl and I are riding in the car after I pick her up from school. After reviewing her progress through the many twists and turns of high school life, she asks me how my day was.

          “Okay,” I reply with an abundance of self pity, “I had to go to the doctor for my yearly, which would be more accurately called a three-yearly because that’s how long it takes me to force myself to go.”

          After she sits for a minute trying to decide if she should drag that small piece of wisdom into her adulthood, she asks, “What’s a yearly?”

          “Once a year, you should go to the doctor, lie in an uncomfortable paper robe, let the doc examine your “girls” (that’s our slang for boobies) for any lumps that could be cancerous, and then he/she takes a peek at your “whoha” (that’s our slang for va-j-ja [that’s Oprah’s slang for vagina]. We also have: treasure box, the no-no spot, your unmentionables, your hoochie, and occasionally your beaver).”

          “Mom, do you remember when I was little and you would say, ‘I will tell you when you’re older?’” she asks me.

          “Yup,” I reply nodding.

          “Can we please go back to that?”