The other day, as I was fresh out of the shower, Muffin comes into our room and takes one look at me and asks interestedly, “Mommy, where’s your penis?” Cringe, really? Are we having this conversation already? You’re only two and a half!
Well, I am one for teaching proper words for private parts (like penis is “penis” and not “pee pee” or “wee wee”, etc.) but I have to say that the v-word doesn’t roll off my tongue very easily. Nevertheless, I said, “Mommy doesn’t have a penis because mommy is a girl and girls have v…va…vaginas.” He looked at me quizzically, and then down at my lady parts again and said, “Oh, okay.” And that was it. He was satisfied by my answer. I, however, was not. I didn’t realize I was quite so squeamish about the v-word. I must get over this now that Madam Poopsalot is on the scene and I’ll be using that dreaded v-word more often.
