Not a Scenario I'd Anticipated

While Seymour was away last week, I moved some of my, erm, "gear" into a more accessible place--the back of the sweater drawer of my dresser (it usually lives in a secret place where no one will ever ever find it because then they would suspect that I am a sexual being and we cannot have that).

At any rate, no one has ever opened my sweater drawer, either, so--while the very small OCD part of my brain was nattering at me to return said gear to the vault--the more practical and overwhelmed by Seymour and Iz's returning accompanied by my parents part of the brain said, "Eh, why bother."

So, of course Iz came out of my room the other night wearing both a sheepish look and one of my sweaters. When I became very cross and demanded to know what she was doing with my sweater, she became upset and penitent in a much more dramatic fashion than I would expect from a mere sweater-swiper.

This is not a scenario I'd ever imagined discussing with a child. The fact that I will not even name what I'm writing about may clue you into how reluctant I am to talk about the nature of my self-love with my seven-year-old daughter. Aaaaaaaaaaigh. I will talk and have talked about any other sex subject with her--why did she have to go snooping through my drawers?

My reaction to her innocent sneakery has made her reluctant to follow up with her usual questions, I can tell. But I don't want to let this go unaddressed. Advice? Assvice? I'll take what I can get (obviously).

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