Out, damned spot!

In the grocery store the magazines on display at the checkout aisles should be kept out of view of small children. Brand new tiny readers can see the headlines on the latest issue of Cosmopolitan entitiled, "95 Sex Tricks To Drive Him Crazy," which they then practice their phoenetic skills on, to the embarassment of moms who are then forced to stand there and try to redirect their attention to Golden Books with Big Bird on the cover.

I was standing at the checkout with a cart full of groceries patienty waiting my turn. My 3 year old, Laura, was in the seat of the cart. Her sister, Lizzie, 7, was wandering the aisles as I called her to come over to me. She was meandering from checkout to checkout, looking at the magazines. I thought she was safe. Suddenly I hear her, 4 aisles down, call to me. "Mommy?" she called, with a question in her voice.

"Yes, honey?" I responded, clueless.

"Mommy," she called, loud now, looking at the magazine rack in front of her, "what's a G-spot?"

I paused, mouth open, speechless. I looked around to notice that my daughter had the attention of every person at every checkout in the entire store, including the cashiers, who had stopped cashiering.

"Honey, why don't you come over here and mommy will tell you."

She was no fool. She looked at me. She knew she had me in one of those, I've got mommy just where I want her moments, and she was going to make the most of it. She started to dance. She started to sing, a made-up off-key melody, at the top of her voice, "Mommy what's a G-spot, Mommy what's a G-spot, ..." and on and on and on.

I looked down at my sweet little Laura, sitting in the grocery cart. I looked into her innocent brown eyes as she opened her mouth to mimic her sister, "Momma what's a G-spot, Momma what's....." you get the picture.

I thought the whole store was going to break into song, like a bad Broadway musical! I put a fake smile on my face and strode past the staring customers, pulled Lizzie to me, walked her to my cart and stuffed a donut in her mouth. Silence at last!

Years later, the girls and I were in the car and I told them this story. Lizzie was now 18 and Laura 14. They were hysterical with laughter. The laughter died down slowly and in the silence that followed, I heard Laura ask, "Mommy, what's a G-spot?”