On the way back from school this afternoon, we took a detour by the pharmacy to pick up refills on my daily “don’t want to get pregnant this close to 40” pills. I was talking to the clerk in the window, gave her my last name, and simply asked to pick up my prescription refill. “For what?” she asked. “Birth control” I muttered under my breath, trying to keep inquiring minds at bay.
Unfortunately, their selective spidey sense was on. (How is it they can hear me whisper to the pharmacist when I don’t necessarily want them to hear, yet they can’t hear me when it’s time to clean their room?) Sure enough, up pipes Baby C. “Mom, what are birth control pills for?”
The pharmacist, trying to stifle a snort, could sense this might not be the time and place that I might chose to have such a conversation with my children, particularly with witnesses present. Fortunately, there were Tootsie Pops, which she graciously offered and they readily accepted which diverted their attention.
This was one of those times that I was grateful for A.D.D.