It wasn't often that Amy Duncan had the chance to spend time alone with her twelve-year-old daughter, so she planned on making the most of their "girls' day". Her husband, Bob, and their two sons were spending the afternoon on a fishing trip, and daughter Teddy had chosen to spend the afternoon watching chick-flicks.

"I want to fall in love like that," Teddy sighed, watching the amorous couple race down a busy city street toward their crushing embrace. "Is that what it was like when you and Daddy fell in love?"

Amy snorted.

"What?" Teddy asked.

"Sweetie, your father is many things, but 'romantic' is definitely not one of them. Besides, nobody really falls in love like that. That's just in the movies."

"Oh."

Amy put the next disc in the DVD player but didn't start it yet. She glanced at her daughter and tried to remember what it was like to be a twelve-year-old girl who believed in romantic comedies and Harlequin Romances. And of course, what it was like to listen to a cynical old married woman try to explain away the fantasy.

"You know," she said; "You know, just because your dad never chased me down a busy street, doesn't mean I never got butterflies."

"Huh?'

"Butterflies. Okay, you know that feeling when you see a cute boy and you stomach kind of flips and wiggles like you've got a million butterflies fluttering around inside? Now imagine that feeling multiplied by a hundred. That's how I felt every time I looked at him. In real life, it's not always about the big exciting, dramatic moments like in the movies. Sometimes it's just about the butterflies."

Teddy munched her popcorn thoughtfully. "So, Mom, can I . . . Can I ask you another question?" she ventured.

"Of course, Teddy! You know you can always ask me anything."

"In the other movie, when they … you know … did it, " Teddy's face flushed bright red, but she forged ahead; "Um, Rose cried after they did it. Does it, you know, hurt?"

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather ask about the butterflies?" Amy muttered. She took a deep breath, wondering if her own face was as red as her daughter's. "Okay, well, sometimes. Yeah, sometimes it hurts a little bit the first time, but just because your body doesn't really know what it's doing yet. But I don't think that's why Rose was crying."

"Then why?"

"Well … Honey, it was supposed to be her first time."

Teddy shuddered.

Amy had thought about this conversation many times, and tried to plan for it, and it wasn't going anything like she had expected.

"Teddy, I'm not saying this right. I don't want you to think that sex is some horrible, painful thing because it's not. Okay, a girl only ever has one first time. In all her life, no matter who she marries, no matter how many men she's ever with, she will only ever have one First. And no matter what, she'll always remember that moment, that man. It's a pretty emotional thing. I don't think Rose was crying because of any pain or because she was sad or regretting losing her virginity. She was crying because the emotional impact of that can be pretty overwhelming."

"Was your first time really special? I bet it was so beautiful, with candlelight and roses and all that stuff."

I wish I was a drinker; I could really use a shot of something right about now, Amy groaned inwardly.

"Well … Teddy … my first time involved a lot of fumbling and trying to figure out what went where, worrying about whether we were doing it right, and whether …. Well, it was memorable. I'll say that. Not unpleasant, just … memorable. If you expect to hear choirs of angels and see fireworks, you're going to be in for a disappointment." More like Michael Bolton and headlights with my foot stuck in the steering wheel.

"Was Daddy your first?"

"Yes, Teddy." Inwardly, Amy cheered. She had always promised herself that she would never lie when her kids asked her the BIG questions. In this situation, she was glad she didn't have to. So of course, she really should have been better prepared for the next question.

"Did you wait until you were married?"

A split second of hesitation, a mere moment of thought. And then—"Of course, Honey. It was hard for us to wait that long, but it was very important to us." Broke THAT promise.

Teddy looked disappointed.

"What?" Amy asked.

"I thought … never mind."

Amy realized that she had somehow failed her daughter. "You don't believe me, do you?" she asked quietly.

"Well, no. I mean .. . Mom, I've seen pictures of you guys when you were in high school, and you were both kinda hot. And you dated for so long before you got married. I just, just don't—"

"First off, you're asking some very personal questions. Daughter or not, you're asking me about things that are really only between your father and me. That's OUR business, and I'm not used to sharing it with others. So give me a break," Amy scolded. "And second … you're right, and I'm sorry; I told you I'd always tell you the truth. So no, we didn't wait until the wedding night. But we DID wait until we were engaged, and I AM glad we waited. And I am also glad that you father was my first, if for no other reason than being able to tell my daughter the truth."

"Okay. Thanks for telling me the truth, Mom."

"And thank you for giving me more gray hairs," Amy chuckled.

"One more question?"

"Shoot."

"How long were you married before the butterflies went away?"

Amy thought about it. A slow smile spread across her face. "They never did, Teddy. I don't get that feeling every day, but I still get butterflies when he kisses me, or when he looks at me in just a certain way. Even after all these years."

"For Daddy?" Teddy thought about her big, balding father with his oversized belly. "But he doesn't look like he used to."

"Neither do I," said Amy. "It's his smile, his eyes, the way he looks at me when he doesn't think I see him. When we're walking and he puts his hand on my back to guide me though the door. When one of you kids is hurt or sick or sad and he takes care of you – just a big gentle giant. Moments like that, I still get butterflies in my tummy."

"I never thought I'd say this," Teddy said; "But I hope I find someone just like Daddy when I grow up. Only with more hair. And a little less gut."

Bob and the boys returned soon after that, and Amy made a big deal about telling them all just how bad they smelled in their fishing clothes. "All three of you, upstairs," she ordered. "Showers. Soap, please, Gabe. Put those nasty clothes right into the hamper, not on my bathroom floor."

Bob grinned. "We caught dinner tonight, Woman," he said in his best "Tough guy" voice. "What did you catch today?"

Amy winked at her daughter. "Butterflies, Honey. I caught a big old bunch of butterflies."