I got my period last night and after digging through closets, suitcases, dop kits and my glove compartment, I located three slightly squashed tampons in my "summer going out" bag. I should mention here we live a solid 20 minutes from any sort of store and all the neighbors have already undergone The Great Change, so popping out for supplies really isn't an option. Usually I can catch Darling Husband before he leaves work and bribe him into stopping, but invariably he comes home with Super Giant Extra Beamy ones that fit women who have had 12 kids...at once.
Then I caught my Mad Scientist Darling Son, in the kitchen happily dunking the golden Tampons in Dog's water. His glee at watching their rapid and exponential expansion would have been hilarious not given my current dire situation.
It will be nice when he is old enough to drive to the store and do that walk of "shame."