Humor | Parenting
You Cannot Take My “Vibrator” for Show and Tell
Our post Covid relaunch was… interesting
The year was 2021. COVID was fading just enough for children everywhere to leave their homes and enter a new physical building. Known fondly by all parents pre-2020 as “school.” Parents threw confetti and danced in the streets.
For 382 days of COVID lockdown, packages and monthly subscription boxes came to our doorstep at an alarming frequency. I sat in the front window with a sign reading “Help Me,” begging the Amazon delivery guy to take me with him. He never did. However, he did consistently avoid eye contact during his multiple visits a day. I wrote him out of my will.
After staring at myself in too many Zoom and Teams meetings, I found a subscription box that promised to reverse my visible aging. One month, it contained a trendy face cleanser tool. You know, the one that you put your serum on and then rub it over your face while it vibrates. I rarely washed my face and did not own any serum. So, my kindergartner claimed it as her own. Which worked out great since that thing actually provided her with hours of entertainment and no mess, unlike those scammy S.T.E.M. educational boxes with video advertisements of smiling moms and kids working together.
Fast forward to the “first” day of kindergarten. In May, shortly before summer break started and everyone returned to their homes. I wear my least holey joggers for the special occasion (turns out none of the dress for success clothes fit properly) and my daughter selects her most sequined dress. I look like I’m on my way to bed while she looks ready for a Taylor Swift concert.
We’re ready for our relaunch.
Walking to school, my daughter shares how her teacher told everyone to bring something for show and tell (with strict instructions that no other student could touch said objects or everyone would bathe in hand sanitizer).
“That’s great. How fun!” was my standard mom not really listening response.
“Do you want to see what I brought to share?” Her eyes were big, signaling she wanted to do a dress rehearsal. I silently remind myself not to touch the object.
I mumble something resembling a yes.
“I brought your vibrator, mommy!” She beams up at me, although it’s hard to look at her with all those sequins reflecting in the sunlight.
My mind races. How does my six-year-old daughter know what a vibrator is, and more importantly, how did she know to find it in my nightstand?
What was the standard protocol at school for such an event? Would they call Child Protective Services? Would they force us back into remote learning at home for eternity? We had not had the sex talk yet, let alone a healthy debate on what was more satisfying, a man or a tool created for a woman’s pleasure.
I take a deep breath.
“Honey, unfortunately, you cannot take Mommy’s vibrator for show and tell.”
Her lip quivers; her sequins sparkle. And then she becomes indignant. “Why not?” She glares at me. “It isn’t like you even use it.”
Well, hey there judgy wudgy was a bear. It has been a long stressful pandemic, all right. And how do you even know I don’t use it??
In slow motion, she unzips her backpack while all the other families descend on our standoff. I grab for her little hand, to swat my vibrator back into the bag before we become the gossip of the PTA, but I am too late. It falls to the ground.
“If you are not going to let me take it, I will do a presentation about it. I will tell my class how much I love playing with Mommy’s vibrator and that I wanted to show it to the class except my Mommy is MEAN.” Her little hands are firmly on her hips now. She means business.
I hear vibrating. It turned itself on during our struggle and is now doing a little jig on the sidewalk. I reach down, pick it up, turn it off, and hand it back to my daughter.
“I will make a deal with you.” I smile. “You can take it, but you cannot call it mommy’s vibrator, ok? It is a facial cleanser. You need to call it a facial cleanser if you want to take it for show and tell. Deal?”
She nods slowly. Unsure whether she won the battle but happy to have her prized possession back. She brushes off the dirt and secures it in her backpack for her victory march to school.
Thankfully, no one complained about my daughter’s show and tell. And thirty years from now, her classmates better be sending my daughter thank you cards when their skin is still youthful after their early lesson in skincare routines.
