This is an oldie, but I was telling someone about it the other day and they said ‘You should put that on your blog.’
So here you go.
Way back when I only had two, DD2 was tiny and DD1 went to nursery 2 days a week. She was about two. The nursery was lovely but they liked you to get there at certain times as they ran quite structured sessions, and I was struggling.
One morning, I was downstairs BFing DD2 before nursery and DD1 disappeared from the room. I heard her go up the stairs, and into our room for a bit, then come down again. She was quite sensible on the stairs by this point so I didn’t worry too much about stairgates but I did wonder what she had been up to. She liked to open drawers and empty them of their contents given half a chance.
I called out her name as she came down stairs, and she offered me a cheery ‘Hello, Mumma’, then toddled past into the front room. I was more worried about her in there, it was our junk room. So I detached the baby with the aim of checking on her busy sister when someone knocked on the door.
I knew it would be the postman, and had already inadvertently exposed myself to him at least once, so went through a quick bra fastening checklist before opening the door. He looked relieved to see me standing there fully clothed, and made appropriate noises at DD2 while he handed me some mail. DD1 came wandering out to see if anything exciting was happening and I noticed she had something brightly coloured in her hand.
‘Look Mumma’, she said, extending her hand. My hands were full of mail and baby so I couldn’t grab whatever DD1 was handing at me. The nice postman said ‘Whats that you’ve got?’ and smiled as she handed it to him.
It was a condom, of the ‘fun’ variety, bought about a year previously when DH was still optimistic about the quality of marital relations post baby.
The poor postman blushed like a schoolgirl but I’m not sure I didn’t give him a run for his money before he wedged the packet into the post I was already holding, and fled.
By this time we were running late for nursery, so there was a rush to get shoes and coats on everyone. I did have a fleeting thought that I should frisk DD1 to make sure she had hadn’t filled her pockets with anything she shouldn’t, but I got distracted by not being able to find my breast pad and had to go and get another one. At this time, I was using both reuseable nappies and breast pads, so a lost breast pad was a slightly bigger deal than the loss of a disposable one.
I can’t remember what I did for the rest of that day after dropping DD1 at nursery, but I remember the pick up very well.
DD1′s key worker opened the door to me and the first thing she said was ‘Oh, DD had *something* in her pocket today. We took it off her, let me go and get it.’
OMG. For the second time that day, I could feel my face burning as I exclaimed,’ It was a condom, wasn’t it?’. I just hoped it wasn’t one that had anything too explicit on the packet.
The nursery worker looked at me in shock.
‘A condom!? Why would she have a condom? No, we aren’t sure WHAT it is.’
And she reached into a cupboard and produced my lost reuseable breast pad.
There is a moral to this story, and you can learn from my mistake. ALWAYS check your children’s pockets before they leave the house….