MONDAY, JANUARY 24, 1944Dearest Kitty,A very strange thing has happened to me. (Actually, "happened" isn't quite the right word.)Before I came here, whenever anyone at home or at school talked about sex, they were either secretive or disgusting. Any words having to do with sex were spoken in a low whisper, and kids who weren't in the know were often laughed at. That struck me as odd, and I often wondered why people were so mysterious or obnoxious when they talked about this subject. But because I couldn't change things, I said as little as possible or asked my girlfriends for information.After I'd learned quite a lot, Mother once said to me, "Anne, let me give you some good advice. Never discuss this with boys, and if they bring it up, don't answer them."I still remember my exact reply. "No, of course not," I exclaimed. "Imagine!" And nothing more was said.When we first went into hiding, Father often told me about things I'd rather have heard from Mother, and I learned the rest from books or things I picked up in conversations.peter van Daan wasn't ever as obnoxious about this subject as the boys at school. Or maybe just once or twice, in the beginning, though he wasn't trying to get me to talk. Mrs. van Daan once told us she'd never discussed these matters with peter, and as far as she knew, neither had her husband. Apparently she didn't even know how much peter knew or where he got his information.Yesterday, when Margot, peter and I were peeling potatoes, the conversation somehow turned to Boche. "We're still not sure whether Boche is a boy or a girl, are we?" I asked.Yes we are, he answered. "Boche is a tomcat."I began to laugh. "Some tomcat if he's pregnant."peter and Margot joined in the laughter. You see, a month or two ago peter informed us that Boche was sure to have kittens before long, because her stomach was rapidly swelling. However, Boche's fat tummy turned out to be due to a bunch of stolen bones. No kittens were growing inside, much less about to be b
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