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There is only one success--to be able to spend your life in your own way.-Christopher Morley
The Trojan Man
By David
Posted February 27, 2012

I'm standing at the beginning of an aisle at Gelson's supermaket in Calabasas. It's President's Day weekend and we're making a quick stop to pick up some dessert to bring over to a friend's barbecue that we'll attend later in the afternoon.

I'm casually leaning on my half-full shopping cart, patiently waiting for my wife, aka, Beautiful Eema, to pick up paper towels at the other end of the aisle. Across from me, my children, the Good Boy and the Sweet Sweetheart are whispering in each other's ear, quite suspiciously.

I say 'suspiciously,' because any time the two of them are waiting around for more than five minutes without a specific designated activity and without doing something mischievous, I automatically start to suspect that foul play is at hand. Or, at the very least, that there is some serious scheming going on.

Just as the thought starts to cross my mind, they burst out laughing and they start pointing at me, or at least in the general direction of my shoulder.

I look down and to the side of my shoulder, dreading what I might find, but there's seemingly nothing out of the ordinary. My inquisitive look, however, only causes the kids to burst out laughing even louder.

I know that you know that I know that you know. Or, so I think...
I know that you know that I know that you know. Or, so I think...

"OK... OK... What's going on?" I ask, bewildered.

This innocent question only causes the volume of their laughter to rise several levels, and they continue to point in my direction.

But oddly, I see nothing at all by my shoulder.

"You're standing right in front of the tampons!" finally yells the Good Boy, holding his stomach and laughing out loud. His sister is almost hysterical with laughter, too.

I turn around and, sure enough, behind me is a grand display of hygiene products for ladies of all ages and stages, in a variety of sizes, shapes and colors, from white to neon -- in mass quantities.

And there I am, right in front of it all, with my kids wildly entertained.

I start to wonder just how and when my 9 year-old and my 10 year-old learned about intimate adult female facts. If it were up to me, I'd still insist that babies are brought by the stork. I still tell them to cover their eyes if we happen to see any romantic kissing on TV. 'It's inappropriate for children," I say.

But, as a master of choosing my battles, I decide not to start that particular conversation in middle of the tampon aisle at our local Gelson's supermarket.

Feeling like I need to say something wise as the adult of the bunch, I mutter, "Well, I'm sure no one will suspect me of using these things." I then casually take a few steps down the aisle, pushing the shopping cart just past the Maxi-pad shelf, as my kids are nearly doubling over with laughter. I stop and resume my leaning on the cart, glad that no other customers are present.

"Ah ha ha ha ha!" The Good Boy starts again, and points past my shoulder with even more delight and enthusiasm than before.

"Well, now they'll think you're the Trojan Man!" he loudly announces.

I turn my head, only to find that I've inadvertently stopped in front of the condom section. Oh, boy...

"I don't know what this is," I say in denial. " And who's the Trojan Man anyway?"

"Well, it's a good thing that you don't know," my son answers. "It's VERY inappropriate!" he says, shaking his finger at me, much to his sister's delight.

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