Yes, I Went There...

When I recently discovered this post over at Checking the Electrical Box, I laughed, I blushed, and then I felt incredibly relieved.  I felt much better knowing that I am not the only mom that gets a tiddly-bit squeamish when my son giggles uncontrollably as I wipe...down there.  I am also glad to know that there are other women feeling ill-equipped to deal with the various forms that the infant twig and berries can and will take before it enters puberty.

The fact is, mothers have been dealing with Dangling Participles since the dawn of time.  However, when I found out I was having a boy, I was petrified.  I was raised with only girls.  How would I ever deal with an appendage I was only familiar with in the biblical sense?  How would I teach him to respect it, to not abuse it, and to definitely not misuse it (thereby leading to our own episode of 16 and Pregnant)?

My fear wasn't necessarily abated that first time his Auntie Bex met him, a good 5735 miles away from home, when the first words out of her mouth were, "Look at the size of his baby junk!"  It also didn't make me feel any better that time that the nurse collecting his urine wasn't able to fit the bag over his large family jewels, and exclaimed, "Wow, you must be so proud!"   And, it really doesn't help me feel better about the future, considering that the Hubs can't even say the word "penis" without his voice raising 4 octaves, emulating not one, not two, but all three Chipmunks.

But at some point, I will have to face my fear.  I will have to realize that he has a wee willy winky just like every other little boy.  And when he starts realizing the goldmine that is between his legs, I will have to say, like every other mom before me, "Stop playing with your penis.  God is watching."