Where's Daddy When You Need Him?

Sooo Mister Man is in time out at the moment. Not really, but just in my mind. There are some things that small children do in public that well... I just wish they wouldn't. Little Miss's incident yesterday is another case in point. Maybe both wee ones go into timeout until they're thirty.

*sigh*

Soooo just before bathtime tonight, Mister Man walks out of the bathroom lacking clothes. He's also repeatedly squeezing his te$tlcle$. It doesn't appear to be causing him any pain, but the sight of it definitely throws me for a loop.

I ask him what he's doing, and he looks at me with completely innocence.

You know what, Mommy? I can really tell that I have to go potty badly.

Oh? I inquire with an arched eyebrow, trying to quickly figure out what his grubby little hand is doing and why.

Yep. I can feel how full my kidneys are. When I squeeze them I can feel all the pee in them. I really have to go badly.

I lost it at that point. I collapsed on the floor, dying of laughter. Between gasps, I tried to explain that your kidneys are on your back under your ribs. He didn't believe me. I tried to explain how there are tubes that go from your kidneys to the appropriate place.

And that he is definitely not squeezing his kidneys. And that it has nothing to do with having to go to the bathroom. He now knows the medically appropriate name for that portion of his anatomy.

I'll leave the information about how and when they do fill up to Daddy.

I really do wonder where they get these things. But in the meantime, I'm locking them up until I can safely loose them upon the public without worrying about being mortified by what may or may not come out of their mouths.

Yeah, I Knew That

Tonight, my husband was helping Mister Man with his shower while I got Little Miss into bed and read her Peter Pan (again).

Daddy: Ok, Mister Man, I've got your back and your neck. Can you scrub all the rest of your body?
Mister Man: Where do I need to wash?
Daddy: Everything.
Mister Man: What's everything?
Daddy: Your entire body. All the parts of it.
Mister Man: Even my private parts?
Daddy: Yes, you pen1s and your test1cles and everything need to be washed.
Mister Man: Daddy, do you have a pen1s and test1cles?
Daddy: Yes, why?
Mister Man: Do girls have pen1ses and test1cles?
Daddy: No, they have different equipment.
Mister Man: I know that, Daddy. I was just making sure you did, too.

Ahhh, the joys of parenting small children.

Cross Your Fingers For Me

Tomorrow, we head to Florida. And no, that's not why I need you to cross your fingers. We actually have three adults flying down with two wee ones, so it won't be too bad. Traveling with my parents makes things so much easier.

No, I'm worried about what Little Miss might do.

I was worried about this with Mister Man on a previous flight, but fortunately my worries were for naught. Little Miss, on the other hand, likes to try to do things that are slightly naughty but not quite enough to really get her in trouble.

She's learned body parts.

And who has which ones.

We regularly have conversations around how Mommy has a vag1na and Daddy has a pen1s. Yes, we use the proper words because I don't want her to not be able to use them when she's older, and I want both of them to be comfortable with their bodies.

Unfortunately, those conversations don't stay just about Mommy and Daddy. When my parents are over for dinner, Little Miss will sometimes ask my dad if he also has a pen1s because he's a boy. Picture a conservative 64 year old who didn't exactly spend a ton of time parenting when his own daughters were young. Now picture him turning beet red and spluttering at the question.

Personally, I think it's sort of funny.

It isn't quite as funny when we're out in public and she asks me (thankfully, knock on wood, not anyone else yet) if a certain person has a pen1s or a vag1na. And I tell her. And then I explain that this isn't a polite conversation to have in a public place. The first part sticks with her, but the second part ... not so much.

But I have this nightmare where Little Miss walks down the aisle of the aircraft as I'm loaded down with bags and unable to grab her or discreetly shush her.

She walks down the aisle and looks to her left. Vag1na, she announces as she points to the woman in the seat. To her right, she spots a dad with his son. Pen1s and pen1s, she proudly crows. On and on, all the way to the back of the airport she continues her dissection of gender and anatomy. She is blithely unaware of the chaos she's leaving in her wake.

Unaware, that is, until she gets to the man, or is it a woman, with short hair and nondescript featres. Uh-oh. She stops and stares at this poor person. Finally, her eyes light up. You, she announces in her oh-so-sweet way that only she can, are a boy. You have a pen1s. And she skips merrily forward.

The man with the subtle eyeliner and lipgloss that I can now see as he, I mean she, narrows her eyes, is none to pleased. She glares as me as I blush, stammering apologies, before I drop my items and scoop up Little Miss with my hand wrapped around her mouth, hushing her.

The damage is done, however, and I can hear the giggles from around me, and the thumping of feet coming behind me. Fortunately, I usually wake up at this point, drenched in a cold sweat, dreading setting foot on this airplane.

If you don't hear from me again, it's because I was pummeled to bits by the nice lady my daughter thought was a man.

PS I do have scheduled posts and expect to have wireless access in the hotel, so I should still be around. If not, I'll be back on the 30th! Wish me luck at Disney!