The other day I was at a friend’s house when I heard my 4 year old yelling for me to “wipe his ass.” This child could potentially go off to college not knowing how to properly clean his Holey-O. After I did my motherly duty, I asked my daughter why she didn’t come and get me. I expected her to give an excuse involving Polly Pockets and their ongoing drama. Instead she said, “Because he told us to smell his poop AND his penis.” My first reaction was to laugh. Who else but a drunken frat boy would tell someone to sniff their junk? When I confronted my son he freely admitted he offered up this odd request. As we drove home in silence it dawned on me, I’m raising a GUY!
I’ll admit I was surprised when I found out I was having a boy. I didn’t grow up with a brother and my father was more Larry David than Tony Macelli. Boys are a bit of a mystery to me. It doesn’t matter what a baby’s packing. Either way it’s gonna get a rash and need Triple Paste. I’ve been very frank in teaching my children about their private parts. I thought I was pretty clear about the rules of genetalia. I didn’t realize I had to add “no smelling.” In my son’s defense he’s really into his penis right now. He just needs to learn he can’t have an afternoon taffy pull on the couch watching “Ni How Kai Lan.”
Then one night it hit me like balls in the face. I was watching my son wish his little weenis a fond farewell and tuck him safely into a Pull Up.
“Son, do you like to touch your penis?”
“If you wake up with a dry Pull Up for 2 weeks, you can sleep in underwear. And you know, if you sleep in underwear, you can touch your penis. AT NIGHT! Don’t you want to touch your penis at night?
Was it a little wrong? Sure. But that boy hasn’t had an ounce of urine in his Pull Up, for two weeks. He’s been toting around his dry training pants like a gold medal he knows he’s about to wax all night long. Maybe raising a boy won’t be that hard.