Do you pee out of your butt? ~ My Son
A few years ago, my son, Snugs McNugget (yes, that’s his real name), walked in on me while I was using the bathroom. He was about four at the time and immediately upon seeing me on the toilet, he inquired, “Are you dropping a deuce?”
When I informed him that I was peeing, he began laughing as though I was a complete imbecile.
Snugs: You pee standing up. You poop sitting down!
Me: Honey, Mommy is a girl. Girls pee sitting down.
Snugs: Where is your penis?
Me: Mommy, doesn’t have a penis. I have a vagina.
Snugs, laughing hysterically: A bagina! What’s a bagina?
Thankfully, he lost interest shortly thereafter and I was spared the need to provide any additional detail.
Now my son is six and a Kindergartner and he’s become interested in understanding where babies come from and the anatomical differences between males and females.
Earlier in the school year, he came home from school and informed me that one of his classmates, Jacob, had seen his sisters “wagenda.”
Me: Her what?
Snugs: Her wagenda. You know, her wagenda (points to his crotch).
Me: Oh…her wagenda. I see.
Snugs: Can I see yours?
Me: No. That would be inappropriate. You should never ask a woman if you can see her wagenda. It’s a private part and remember, it’s important to respect a person’s privacy.
Snugs: I just really want to see one. Jacob said it looks like a butt. Does it look like a butt? Do girls have two butts? Wait, do you pee out of your butt?
I haven’t the slightest idea how to have these conversations.
For the most part, nobody talked to me about this stuff when I was a kid. When I asked my great-grandpa where babies came from, he told me he found me in the yard one afternoon, sitting in a buttercup. And I believed it….for years.
Later, I picked up the general basics from movies and from walking in on my mother having sex with a guy named Ron she met in rehab.
The only other bit of education I got was when my mother said, “Do you want your cooter to smell like a fish stick? No? Then keep your pants on.”
I’m fairly certain the fear of smelling like a Gordon’s fisherman was the reason I preserved my virginity far longer than most of my peers.
So, what amount of information is too much information?
What if my son goes to school and shares his knowledge with other kids, who tell their parents, who then call me and are all like, WTF!?
Honestly, it’s moments like these I feel woefully ill-equipped as a parent and a little bitter about the lack of accurate information I was given as a child.
In most situations, when I don’t know the exact right answer, I say, “We’ll find a book on the subject.”
A quick internet search proved that there are apparently a million choices. Does anyone out there have a recommendation?
Something by Dr. Seuss perhaps….There’s a Wagenda on the Agenda!
Actually, that sounds more like something Mike Pence would write and so no. Just no.
I don’t want my son to grow-up misinformed (except for the whole wagenda thing, I’m going to let that one go for a while), or embarrassed to ask questions he might have about sex. I’d prefer he ask his dad, but whatever.
I’ve convinced him that I know everything and so heavy is the head that wears the crown. I need to deliver. But first, I need book suggestions….