It is 7:30 in the morning and the kids are up sitting at the kitchen bar eating breakfast.  They are sleepy, but slowly waking up and resigned to their fate of another day of public education.  Badger, like so many seven year olds, uses his first moments of wakefulness as a time for self reflection.

“I don’t cry nearly as much as I used to.” he states, with an air of accomplishment.

“I think you are right…you don’t cry as much.”  I reply.

He looks at Sunny, who has been semi-silently moaning and weeping since crawling out of bed five minutes before.  A bad nights sleep and some unfinished homework making it impossible for her to hold her shit together today, so all her 11 year old woes come tumbling out of her like glass shattering on top of a wounded animal who is being forced to listen to finger nails on a chalk board.

“But Sunny, she cries a lot more now.”  he observes.

Being the sympathetic mother that I am I offer up an explanation.

“Well, Sunny is about to go through a really emotional time in her life.”

“Yeah, it’s called her period.”  Leo says.