“So what’s going on with your vagina?” is a question my 6-year-old daughter casually asked recently as she strolled into my home office.
I did a double-take, but it was quick. After all, I write about sex for a living and, well, sometimes, vaginas just … come up.
“Oh, nothing. My vagina is fine,” I said, just as casually.
“OK,” she said and wandered off.
I am tickled by the fact that my daughter is just as comfortable asking me about my “vagina problems” as she is about the mole near my left shoulder or the burn scar on my forearm.
Then again, that learned ease was intentional on my part.