Reese asked if he could see my vagina today.
I said no.
Seriously, I think the kid might be a little obsessed. He keeps telling the knock, knock joke that always ends in ‘gina.’ I tried to explain that he should not say that word because it makes people uncomfortable. Even as I was saying it I knew it sounded ridiculous, so there was no chance he was buying it.
This afternoon we were in the family bathroom at Target. (Sidenote – don’t you love the family bathroom? I love it. Brilliant idea. Getting a double stroller into a standard stall is impossible.) Jackson went potty first, I told him “hold on to your wiener.” That might sound weird, but it is necessary. If I don’t remind them to hold on to it, they won’t. Then they get pee on their pants. They do this a lot. Like, a lot, a lot. They smell like urine 99% of the time.
They’re not very smart. I think they get it from Dallas.
So I said “hold on to your wiener” and Reese said, “you hold on to your wiener too.”
Here we go again.
“I don’t have a wiener, I’m a girl. Girls don’t have wieners.”
“What do you have?”
“Girls have vaginas”
“Can I see it?”
“Your vagina. Can I see your vagina?’
“Because it’s hard to see. It doesn’t stick out like a wiener, it’s kind of inside.”
“Like here?” He pointed to his stomach.
“Not really. It’s lower. It’s like, a little bit out and a little bit in. It’s just…it’s just hard to see”
(I realize this isn’t the best explanation. Feel free to let me know if you have a better one.)
Frick on a stick. I backed myself into a corner. My only option now was bribery. I offered them ice cream. They accepted. The rest of our day was vagina free. Well, vagina-talk free, it’s not like I deserted them.
I think I’m going to start calling it a flower or just telling them I have a wiener too. Let their wives explain it.