“Put your penis away or you’re going to time out!” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I was kinda loud, too. Did the neighbors hear? Have I unwittingly given my son some sort of penis shame? I really am trying not to give either of my kids body issues but geez. The kid can’t extract it from his pants in public, right?
It’s at least partly my fault. The penis shit started pretty quickly. We were in the backyard filling up the pool. Pool singular turned into pool plural due to the bitching and squabbling and hair-pulling and attempts-at-drowning going on in the first one. But that’s not an integral part of the story. Anyway, as the pool (the first one) was filling, Felix discovered that the water jet tickled his penis. Ok, son. Let’s move on.
Then he had to pee. And he was dripping wet. So what’s Mom to do? “Why don’t you just tee tee here in the corner of the yard?” He had never done that before (at least not to my knowledge). Why not? I save my floors. He pees. Winners all, no?
Well, as far as Felix was concerned, weeing in the yard was the bees’ knees. Nothing has been so amusing since Lightning McQueen. You’d have thought he cured cancer, he was so proud of himself. And the whole experience must have made him feel as one with his member. Shall we say the horse didn’t want to go back in the barn.
Y’all, this may be one of those areas where I’m unfit. Any time any of this shit happens, my inner Beavis and Butthead come out. Just as I’m ill-equipped to pee standing up in the backyard, I’m obviously ill-equipped to teach my boy child how to responsibly use his boy parts. And with that, I’m off to the store to buy teepee for my bunghole. (Are you threatening me?)