Well, it didn't happen that way at all. Much to my surprise and delight.
This morning I was on the bus when I got a call. "Are you busy?", the little voice on the other end said. "Well, I'm on the bus... what's up?" And she told me.
I promptly pulled the bus dinger, called my husband to say we were the parents of a woman and my co-workers to tell them I'd be late and rushed home. Well as much as you can rush when you're on a meandering city bus. Doesn't this driver know I have a woman at home to attend to? She went to bed last night a little girl and look what happened when I took my eye off the ball.
On the ride home I thought of when she was little. Like photographs in an album. The picture of her smiling big at the camera at 2... the shot of her and Henry in helmets on decorated bikes at 5... the photo of her terrified eyes as she got her ears pierced for her 6th birthday... I may have cried a little.
I got home and couldn't stop hugging her. I showed her what to do, gave her a pad and an Advil to take to school and that was that. I asked her if she had any questions and she said they just covered it in health class yesterday. I blame the school.
I told her we'd go get something special at the mall to commemorate the big event and for a meal in a restaurant after. I just want to make this special and not the soul crushing burden it becomes in reality. There are only a few times in life when you are delighted to get your period and most of them involve copious amounts of Sambuca and really questionable judgement. I just want to make this one of those delightful times for her. And it's completely Sambuca-free.
Congratulations beautiful girl. Can I still be proud of her even though neither of us actually did anything?