DS got out of the bath last night, stark bollock naked and waving his willy around. After having 3 girls first, I still find a boy’s tendency to grab hold of things slightly disconcerting. And DS is not a great fiddler, but it seems that when he’s clothes free he has a free licence to investigate.
‘Put it away’, I say and try and shove a pair of pants on him. From experience, I know there is very little in this life that can’t be improved by putting some underwear on. However the pants he’s chosen are on the small side and it’s a bit like putting an octopus into a string bag. There always seems to be *something* hanging out.
‘I like it sticking out’, he says, and adjusts his underwear to reflect this preference. I’m not a prude but the end result is just not right. Things are changing colour. I make a mental note to ask Santa Claus to bring DS some boxer shorts in his Stocking this year.
I resort to lying to my child, something I usually try not to do.
‘If you do that, it’ll fall off’, I say as I fix him with what I hope is a stern look. It’s difficult not to giggle when he’s shaking his teeny weenie at me.
He stops and considers this information, looks down at his boy bits then back up at me. His eyes are rather wide.
‘Really?’ He grins.
‘Then I’ll be a girl like all the other boys who lost their willies.’
This assumption explains a lot, doesn’t it?