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by Philippa Cross who would rather be outdoors than in, alone than in a crowd. She prefers dogs to cats, with a major leaning towards bulldogs. She hopes to win the Pulitzer prize for her yet unpublished novel. She started Thumb Media with a partner in June 2009. Visit her blog

This morning I attended a Pilates class. As usual, I was running late, so I hurriedly grabbed my empty 2 litre Valpre water bottle, filled it with water, and rushed out of the house.

My water bottle was next to my mat, and while doing the downward facing dog (it’s a yoga position), I glanced at my water bottle, which was eye level.

credit:funathomewithkids.com

credit:funathomewithkids.com

There was a tampon floating in it. It had puffed up to full capacity, as only a tampon can.

My son had obviously been on one of his ferreting missions in my bathroom cupboard that morning, and found my box of tampons. He has displayed a fondness for them before, and who can blame him?

They are neatly shaped, the see-through plastic wrapping comes off in a neat twist way, and after spinning them around your finger by the cool little string thingy, you can drop them down the toilet, at which point they puff up before your very eyes.

He has done this over and over again.

My approach to such behaviour has been to ignore it. I find that when I make a big deal about something, he does it more often, and when I ignore something, he gets bored on his own, and stops doing it. I am a mom of 2 toddlers. I pick my battles.

In retrospect, I guess I should have picked this one to fight.

 

As I breathed deeply, in and out, along with my class, I chose to ignore the tampon in my clear water bottle entirely. The oxygen and exercise endorphins had clearly gone to my head.

If anyone asked, I reasoned, I would tell them it was a trick of mine to keep water fresh, like putting rice grains in ones salt cellar.

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