What if...

My muscles are not speaking to me and barely allowing me to move but the Angie's List garden in nearly in, our yard is mulched, mown and weeded. Thank God Jeff's been in a grilling frenzy and has been here all weekend or I'd be eating dry cereal and letting Alison drive herself to Taco Bell for sustenance. Here's the story of the week. I'm sorry I don't have video. Alison, as you know, recently had her puberty lecture. I followed up on it the other day, quizzing her on what she'd do in a couple of scenarios. In Scenario 1, a boy tries to get familiar with her private parts. What would she do? She looked at me and ran her hands down the sides of her torso. "Mom. Really? I don't have anything anyone would want to touch." I implored her to focus on the question because regardless of her current situation, one day this scenario will be all too real. She sighed and got a little dramatic. "I'd say, dude! We're in 5th grade. You need to slow down." I nodded approvingly and posed Scenario 2: the boy asks her to get familiar with his private parts. "Ew!" I looked at her. "OK. I'd say, dude. Look. We're 11. Why don't you save that for when we're 21?" When I can move again, I'll go downstairs, print it out and her her sign it. That'll work, right?