Chart Number 163

March 20, 2015

By Ekta R. Garg

Enjoy these Spurts from the last two weeks, readers!

(Disclaimer: This first one contains information of a, um, feminine nature, so for my male readers: feel free to skip it!)

As many work/stay-at-home parents do when they get ready to take the kids to school in the mornings, I dress for utility. That is, I don’t put on an elaborate outfit to sit in the car for 30 minutes as I drive out of our garage, to one school, then the other, and back into the garage (with the odd stop in the morning at the post office once in a while.)

During the winter months, this means a sweatshirt and sweat pants. Nothing under the sweatshirt.

One morning I sent the kids down for their breakfast and straightened up as I usually do before changing my clothes. Six came upstairs after she finished her cereal and waited for me. She went into the bathroom to rinse out her mouth and I turned my back to her as I took off my nightgown and pulled the sweatshirt over my head.

“Let me see those pom pons,” she called from the bathroom in an impish tone.

“Just rinse out your mouth,” I told her, glancing over my shoulder.

I guess she’s at the age where she’s fascinated by the human body. She giggles if she sees me topless, which doesn’t happen often.

She darted out of the bathroom on that morning just as I pulled the sweatshirt down and straightened it.

“They look like two separate apes,” she said.

“Apes?” I asked.


Well. I’ve never heard of female anatomy described in this way, but, sure. Apes.


One afternoon as we drove home from school, Six made an announcement.

“C. told me he loves me in the kissy way.”

“Oh, really?” I said. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him I don’t love him like that. I mean, I love all my friends. But I don’t love him the kissy way.”

“What did he say when you said that?” Eight asked.

“He said he loves me anyway.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Eight said, and I had to agree. Nothing like the unconditional love of a six-year-old boy.

“I’m not going to fall in love until I’m older,” Eight announced.

“Really?” I said. “How old do you think you need to be to fall in love?”

“Older than ten at least,” she said.

“Yes, definitely much older than ten,” I said. “You could even be as old as eighteen.”

“I’m going to get a job when I’m twenty-three and then get married at twenty-six,” she said.

“Well, that sounds like a good plan,” I said.

“And when I find a nice boy I’m going to consult with you first about him,” she continued. “Then I’ll consult with [Six].”

“I’m not going anywhere near Di-Di’s boyfriend,” Six said immediately.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I’ll have my own love,” she said with confidence.

Planning a future. I like it.


On a morning when my husband had a little bit of extra time before leaving for work, he hung around and waited for the girls to get out of their showers so he could jump in next. As he waited he trotted downstairs and grabbed a banana. When Six left our bathroom her dad put the empty banana peel on the railing of the stairs and took his shower.

“You know, Daddy, that’s not the place to keep a banana,” Eight said to her father.

“I put it there so it would grow,” he quipped.

“Uh, no,” she responded. “That’s not the place for it.”

I’m so glad she took care of that so I didn’t have to.