Bath Time is Body Part Discovery Time

Hard questions: answers
rush out, untamed, left alone…
oh, what have I done?
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It’s Tuesday, and with my beloved traveling, it was up to me to handle bath time. No biggie. The kids are getting to be relatively low maintenance in the bath, with only my 6-year-old son needing some help to get things clean after a good soak. Partway through he called me to come back into the bathroom.

What’s up?

“Mom? What are these called again? I can’t remember.”

I peered to see what he was talking about, only to find him holding his penis up and away at an angle that made me cringe, while also pulling on his testicles rather vigorously.

Those? Below your penis? Those are your testicles.

“And what do they do?”

Well, *cough cough* you know how mommies have eggs inside them to make babies? Well daddies have sperm inside them to make babies with the mommies. The sperm is in your testicles. 

“I don’t understand. How does that work?”

(Oh shit, I thought.) Well, the sperm and the eggs combine inside of mommy to make a baby. I knew fully well this was inadequate and other, even more dreaded questions, were heading my way.

“But how does the sperm get there?” There was a note of concern in his voice.

The daddy puts the sperm inside of mommy. We have a special hole in our girl parts.  (What in the hell have I gotten myself into? Stop talking.)

“How does the sperm get out of me? Does it hurt?”

No. It doesn’t.

“But how? Do they have to cut it out?”

No, no, no. It comes out of the same hole that you pee out of.

He quickly looked at his penis now, still unnaturally pulled to one side.  A questioning look crossed his sweet face.  “Do they have to go inside and scoop it out?”  He gestured like he was holding a spoon. I almost laughed out loud, this was such a genuinely confused little question.

No, sweetie. You can make it come out yourself. (Think before you answer, woman… dammit…)

“What? How?” Again, he peered down at his penis, as if it was something foreign and little scary now that he knew it had certain powers.

Well, trust me, you can just make it happen. But don’t worry, you won’t be able to do it for a long time. You won’t make sperm until it’s time to make babies. You’ll be much older. 

“Oh, like when I’m 16.”

No! Much older than that. You aren’t ready for babies at 16.

“Ohhh, maybe when I’m 30.”

Yes, that’s more like it. When you are 30. 

And with that, he was done. Penis released, testicles relaxed, he returned to his pleasant bath time. I am left fearful, however, as to how this conversation will get translated to his Kindergarten teachers tomorrow. Will he recount certain parts, parts explained separately but recounted as if they are of the same thought?  “My mom told me that when I’m 30 I will be able to make sperm come out of my penis. But they won’t cut it out.  She has a special hole. But I’ll be too young at 16. My sperm is in my testibules.”

So to Mrs. Martin and Ms. Ferone, as well as the parents of any classmates who are entertained with stories in the coming days, first, my apologies and second, do not judge until you have also navigated the tricky waters that I have.

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A boy, a cow, a creative comparison

Life with a young boy,
demands energy, patience,
hugs and much laughter.
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First field trip of Kindergarten! How cool! How exciting! My boy, AB, 5 years old, was all a-flutter about the bus ride to the farm. When I got home that night, he couldn’t wait to tell me about everything that happened.

As usual, the story tumbled out of him quickly, loudly and without any noticeable punctuation.  I’m used that. But then he slowed down to talk about milking the cow.

“We got to milk a cow. It was really cool.”

– Really? What was it like?

“It was warm and it felt really funny.”

– Did you get to pull on the teats? (Why I felt compelled to add this particular word to his working vocabulary is unknown to me. Luckily he doesn’t seem to have heard it.)

“Yeah. It felt like when you stretch your boy parts really really far and squeeze it.”

– *Dramatic pause* It does? Do you do that often?

“Yeah, well no. Well…” and off he went into the next room. The baby sitter and I exchanged looks and I busted up laughing. If you are 5 and you milk a cow, then you likely have a limited experience set to draw from when trying to describe what it feels like. So being a boy, you naturally turn to things at hand, so to speak, to clarify the circumstances.  I gave him full marks for creativity and clarity. I think the baby sitter was a little disquieted by the discussion.

My only concern now is that he will share this particular comparison set with teachers or other kids at school. And in doing so, he will either a) get sent to the principal’s office or b) pick up a nick name he will regret (elasti-boy, stretch, teat-man). I think the kids are a little young as yet to be this clever or cruel, but ten minutes on the play ground often makes me think otherwise.

I am now reviewing all future field trips, trying to decide whether he has enough G rated life experiences to conduct proper post-event-story-telling.  Alternatively, I may just think up really creative questions to ask him so that his replies can become future blog posts. Mother of the year has never been a goal for me…

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