Contrary to my usual bath policy, I let Little Man take a leisurely bubble bath the other day since it was a dreary, rainy day and I had to clean out the closets anyway. Yes, I am a bad parent and left my four year-old in six inches of bubbly water while I was fifteen feet away putting away his summer clothes. With all the singing and such, I had a pretty good barometer as to his not having drowned.
I came in to the room to check on him, and noticed he was pretty seriously investigating his junk. Thank God it was not “bouncy” or I would have had to throw up. It seemed to be more of an exploratory mission, since when I asked him, “What’s goin' on down there, boy-o?”, he asks, “What are these bumps?”
And here we go again.
Explaining you body’s intimate parts and their functions is one of the most stressful, pressure-filled aspects of parenting. One wrong answer and you’ve just cost your kid thousands in therapy, trying to get over their crippling sexual anxiety.
The girls have a pretty healthy view of breasts, I think, since their exposure has only been to them in their functional role. Little Man, not so much, as he pats my chest and asks, “Why you have these bumps?” What is it with this kid and bumps? But while reproducing and the subsequent nursing are handy ways for kids to develop an appreciation for the practical uses of the reproductive bits, it also can bring up topics of discussion waaaay before you’re ready as a parent to go there. And you don’t get a study schedule either, so you can be all prepared and shit. There’s no warning as to when Junior is going to ask where baby comes from, and it’s usually in front of an audience, or when you’re unloading the groceries. It's basically like One of the World's Most Important Pop Quizzes.
The girls had an early intro to The Human Body 101, as I was pregnant with Little Man when #1 was age four and #2 was age two. At that point though, it was pretty easy to satisfy their curiosity with the basics, which became my philosophy – only give them enough information to answer their question. For example, when four year-old #1 asked of my pregnant belly, “How did the baby get in there?” I told her that daddies have seeds they put in the mommies belly and the baby grows in there. That was enough for her, or maybe she heard me muttering under my breath, “Please don’t ask how it gets in there.” She saved that for later. At seven she asked, at the dinner table in front of the other two kids, how the daddies get the seed in there. Arm in the air, dishing out the broccoli, I break into flop sweats. Where is their damn father? Why is it always me getting caught in these situations? I had two seconds to come up with an answer. “You know how Daddy has a penis*, and Mommy has a vagina? Well they fit together like a puzzle and the seed comes out of the daddy and goes into the mommy’s uterus, which is a special part of a woman’s belly and the baby grows there.” And...crickets. Thank God, no bonus round, like "what does the seed look like?"
The words penis, vagina and uterus also bring up the point of what the hell you are going to call everything. H and I have gone the entirely clinical route. I read somewhere once that using the anatomically correct terms could help, God forbid, if your kid ever needed to tell you about a problem in the area. Personally, I just find it weird. Sure, “vagina” doesn’t exactly trip off the tongue, but I don’t want to be talking about her hoo-hoo when #1 gets her period, and I find all nicknames for the male genitalia demeaning. Talk about creating issues. How masculine can you feel, growing up calling it a winky?
Now before you start congratulating me on my wisdom, let me admit, I have made mistakes. The most notable of which, is scarring #2 with my tales of my accidental, drug-free labor with her. I was pretty matter-of-fact about it, but I think the surprising information that there is a third hole down there, coupled with the fact that she is pretty chronically constipated, produced the tears when she asked, "Do you have to have a baby?"
And no matter how careful you are, and how neatly you think you've tied it all up with a bow, your kids will throw a zinger your way that will cause stammering and panic. #1 pretty much knows all the ins and out (no pun intended) of intercourse and birth, etc. , so I thought I was done. Then, snuggling up watching an episode of Gilmore Girls, she blurts out, "So how do people who aren't married have babies?"
Again, H? Nowhere to be found.**
*Thank God we had a small house with one bathroom when they were little, so the girls know what the male equipment looks like.
**One could argue he will be in charge of LM's sex ed class, but I was the one explaining what a scrotum and testicles were during the aforementioned bath.
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