“This is exactly why I was meant to have a girl first!” I say to Mike, my face blushing with I don’t know what emotion as I watched my son wriggling on his back, exploring his new found parts. “I know it’s natural, but come on! A-w-k-w-a-r-d. You talk to him!”
As Mike worked to compose himself, I attempted to fold L’s clothes quickly and deposit them in his closet, avoiding the “manly conversation” that was occurring at the changing table nearby.
“Let’s at least try to use clinical terms, ok?” I say to Mike, who is getting way more of a kick out of this whole situation than I am apparently.
Preparing to exit the room, I couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle myself, because the little dude just looked so dang happy with his discovery. Sure, he doesn’t know what it is, why it’s there or what it’s meant for (thank God!) – to him, it’s just another super cool part of his day. And the day after. And the day after that. In fact, last week I caught him chewing on the remote with one hand, his other lay resting outside of the diaper you know where.
Knowing men, I imagine I have a lifetime of this ahead of me.
I’m not going to pretend to understand because I just don’t have something that super cool dangling from my body (and no, the parts of the female body that gravity has taken over doesn’t count), but I will respect the process as it occurs…
for what I anticipate may be the next 40 years. Or 45. Perhaps 50. We’ll see…
PS: At least I’ll have this post down the road to mortify him when he starts to learn appropriate from not so much. Then I can at least have my little minute of torture. After all, I hear one of the reasons to have children is to embarrass them, right?!