Hey what’s this below my penis? (a Three-year-old’s exploration of his body)

We were sitting on our separate toilets when Tornado E noticed a “new” part of his anatomy.

 

Tornado E: Mommy, what are these?

 

He was tugging on his balls.

 

Me: They are your testes.  Or some people call them balls.

 

Tornado E: (His hands still moving and manipulating his sack.) What are they?

 

Me: Your testes or balls.

 

Tornado E: (He sperates them to notice there are actually two.) What are they? (for?)

 

Me: They’re part of your penis.  All boys have them.  I’ll explain more when you get older.

 

Tornado E: (He stops to look at me to emphasize his question.) What do they DO?

 

Me: Well . . . um . . . they’re for makingbabies.  (cough)

 

Pondering silence.

 

Tornado E: That’s weird!  I go potty now!  But when I’m older I’ll make babies!

 

Me: Sure.  (We’ll go with that for now.  I wasn’t expecting those questions until I was pregnant again.)  Are you done peeing now?

 

Beyond the door, in the office, I hear faint chuckling.  Next time, I’ll tell Tornado E to ask his Father.

 

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Wanted: A PhD in Child Psychology

At a McDonald’s parking lot in An Arizona/ California bordering town.

 

My Husband: Come on, Evan.  Just try to go potty.

 

Evan: (sitting on the potty in the back of the SUV) I don’t need to go!

 

My husband: (Idea as he sees Evan play with his new Happy Meal robot) Evan, Robo (Evan’s name for his robot) needs to go potty!

 

Evan: No, Daddy, robots don’t go potty!  They don’t have penises!  They can’t go pee!

 

My husband: Faemom, I’ve got one for the blogs. 

 

And I finished cleaning up Sean’s vomit and thought I’ll never run out of material.

 

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The Problem with Toddler Naked Time

Tornado S wants to be like his big brother Tornado E.  Tornado S follows Tornado E around the house.  He sits to play with Tornado E; though often instead of building a Lego tower, Tornado S destroys it.  Tornado S often mirrors Tornado E’s best sword fighting moves and Kung Fu Panda exercises.  So why should it surprise me that Tornado S is attempting to potty train himself and join Tornado E in naked time?

 

If for some unreasonable luck Tornado S is allowed to run off without pants or shorts, then he is out of his diaper in a turn of a head, in a turn of my head.  Being a clever child, Tornado S waits for the moment when I’m engaged in some other task before he whips off the diaper and runs, chasing his naked older brother.

 

Last night I was engrossed in making fried rice (anyone looking for a quick, easy, child-friendly meal, fried rice is it as the kids gobble it up with tons of vegetables and an electric chopper can do all the work), and the boys were supposedly engrossed in PBS.  As I chopped the onions up, I noticed out of the corner of my eye Tornado S squatting at the other side if the room.  I glance over to notice he’s banging his hand on the floor.  Hmmm.  Somewhere in my subconscious, I noted something was wrong with this picture.  I turn for a second glance to realize that Tornado S is no longer wearing his diaper.  As I quickly wash the onion juice from my hands, annoyed I asked Tornado S were his diaper was, and I see it in the family room.  As I came closer, I realized there was a small puddle at Tornado S’s feet and that Tornado S was actually patting it to make splashes.

 

What could I have spil- Oh God, no!  Tornado S, no!  I ran the last couple feet and pick him up, facing him out away from me.  Tornado S, we do not play with our pee!  I stomp off into the bathroom to scrub, scrub, and scrub his hands.  I laid him down to secure the diaper and to lock a pair of jeans in place.  Get out of that, Houdini. 

 

I look over to see Tornado E quietly watching PBS, naked and violating penis rule # 1.  Tornado E, stop playing with your penis unless you’re alone and in your room.  Where are your clothes?

 

Maybe we should move to a nudist colony.

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A Biology Lesson or what did you just call it?

Tornado E: I have a penis!

 

Me: That’s right.  You’re a boy, and boys have penises.

 

Tornado E: I’m a boy!  I have a penis!  Mommy, you have a penis!

 

Me: No, Mommy doesn’t have a penis.  Tornado E has a penis.  Mommy is a girl.  She has a vagina.

 

Tornado E: Mommy has a gina!  I have a gina!

 

Me: No, you don’t have a vagina.  You’re a boy; you have a penis.  I’m a girl; I have a vagina.

 

Tornado E: No, I have a gina!  Mommy has a gina!  I have a gina!

 

Me: You have a penis.  Mommy has a gina.

 

Tornado E: Mommy has a gina!  I have a gina!

 

Me: Boys have penises.  You have a penis.

 

Tornado E: Boys have ginas!  I have a gina. 

 

Me: (Sigh) You know you have a penis.  You were playing with it today.

 

Tornado E: I was tickling it.  It’s called a gina!

 

Me: Boys have penises.  And you know it.  You’re being silly.

 

Tornado E: No, you’re being silly!

 

Me: (aha!) No, you’re being silly.

 

Tornado E: No, you’re being silly!

 

Me: You’re being funny.

 

Tornado E: You’re being funny!

 

Me: I love you.

 

Tornado E: I love you!

 

Me: Tornado E is the sweetest boy.

 

Tornado E: Mommy is the sweetest boy!  And Tornado S is the sweetest baby!

 

When you’re in the middle of a debate with a toddler, you don’t want to back down because you have a very important point to make.  Sometimes it’s just easier to guide the conversation somewhere else.

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The Second Penis Rule

So Tornado E is willfully breaking penis rule number 2.  If I had it in writing somewhere and he could actually read, I would point to it over and over again.  For those of you who won’t look back.

 

Penis Rule #2.  You may only touch your own penis.  No one else’s.

 

This is a vital personal skills rule, much along the lines of no hitting or touching someone’s face.  Most people freak out when you touch their face, so imagine how much more they would freak out if you touched their groin.  Yea, all these crazy social rules.

 

A few days ago, the boys were taking a bath, and as the energetic and neglectful parent that I am, I cleaned the bathroom and set out their clothes for after the bath.  When I returned, I noticed Tornado E touching Tornado S’s penis.  What are you doing?! 

 

No, Tornado E, we don’t touch other people’s penises.  I turn around to grab the soap, and when I looked back, Tornado E was touching Tornado S’s penis again! 

 

No, Tornado E, we don’t touch other people’s penises!  Then I watched him do it again.  As I usually slap the back of the hand when I tell Tornado E not to touch something and he does it again, I realized I didn’t want to hit Tornado S.  So I bopped Tornado E on the top of the head.  Tornado E let go of Tornado S’s penis and glared at me.

 

Tornado E: Mommy, don’t hit me!

 

Me: Tornado E, don’t touch Tornado S’s penis.

 

Tornado E: Mommy, don’t hit me!

 

Me: I’ll make you a deal.  You don’t touch Tornado S’s penis; I won’t hit you.

 

Tornado E: I was tickling Tornado S’s penis.  He liked it.

 

Ok, what crazy freak am I raising now?

 

And Tornado S could care less as he was too busy playing with the bath toys to care what was going on.

 

Me: We don’t tickle any one’s penis, do you understand?

 

Tornado E: Ok.

 

Before I could trust Tornado E’s submission to the rules, I finished washing Tornado S and yanked him out of the bath.   Luckily there has been no other abuse of rule 2, but I am keeping a look out.  What is it with boys and penises?

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A penis conversation

 

Tornado E: Mommy, my penis is sad.

 

Me: (As I struggle to get Evan’s underwear on)  Why is it sad?  (Where is this going?  He couldn’t have heard about a happy penis, right?)

 

Tornado E: My penis is not happy.

 

Me: (Deep breath) What would make your penis happy?  (I will kill anyone who makes this into a sexual situation or joke.)

 

Tornado E: My penis needs a drink of water.

 

Me: That’s interesting.

 

Tornado E: I need to go pee in the potty, and then my penis will drink water.

 

Me: Um, ok.  Do you need to go pee?

 

Tornado E: No.

 

Me: Ok, well now that you have underwear on, which shirt do you want to wear the dinosaur one or “I look like Mom, but I act like Dad” one.

 

Tornado E: Like Dad.

 

And so another interesting penis conversation ends.  It’s true.  They only think about their dicks.

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Another Pee Victory

Since the boys are still asleep and I worked my ASS off earlier today as they played in the sandbox outside, I figured I’d write about our newest potty training victory.

Last night I finally put Tornado E in his very first pull-ups.  (Ok, he’s over due, but I buy my diapers at Costco.  I had to use them up.)  He looked at them and said “They’re like underwear!  But they’re diapers!”

Then Tornado E scurried to where the box was and noticed the picture of the little boy who was sitting on the potty with his hands up in victory and the pull-ups down around his knees.  Tornado E pointed to the box and said, “Look at the little boy!  He’s wearing diaper underwear like me!  He’s using the potty!  I think I need to go potty!  I need to use my special potty!”

Out of his room he went, straight to the bathroom.  He struggled to pull off his pull-ups and sat down on the potty with his legs closed tight.  (Due to the stupidity of the training potty industry they make many potties without a shield guard to block the pee coming out of little penises.  New mothers, such as myself, buy these stupid things that have a tiny “guard” that just helps lift the penis out of the bowl.  Luckily my mom showed me my error.  It took three stores to buy the right kind of toilet.  But now I have this stupid one that I keep in the upstairs bathroom.  I have taught Tornado E to aim, after many mistrials. {Long aside, I know.})  But as my husband and I watched Tornado E, I noticed there was a stream of water gathering between his legs.  Crap.  Or should I say, piss.  Before I could help him, Tornado E’s shirt gathered all the piss.  Tornado E jumped up and declared his victory.

Well, not every battle is without their casualties.

Of course, he wet his pull-ups during the night.  Poor Tornado E looked so sad as he showed me his diaper underwear.

On another note, since the Disneyland incident where Tornado E had to learn to pee standing up, Tornado E has been playing with his penis as he pees, moving it around to aim at different places in the potty as he sits.  I guess it’s good practice for when he has to aim for the bowl.  Now we’re learning good hygiene.  Which reminds me, I have to make a sign to remind him.

Finally, Tornado S has become intensely interested in watching his father pee, which gives my husband the creeps.  Really.  Get over it.  Also, Tornado S has learned to take of his diaper and proceeds to make a run for it.  Maybe I should start training Tornado S.

More Penis Stories

As though you can’t get enough of them.

 

Remember the Disneyland story and teaching Tornado E to pee standing up and showing him to shake his penis?  Well, let’s just say that Tornado E is fascinated with the whole thing, standing AND shaking.  This story happened as Tornado E sat on the potty; while I watched.  He now insists that I join him in the bathroom because he doesn’t get candy when he doesn’t aim (due to the fact he was not aiming on purpose, just letting it fly), so he hopes that I will help him if the need should arise.

 

Tornado E: It shakes.  (pause) I can shake my head.  (pause)  I can shake my penis.  I can shake both my head and penis.  (He shook his head.)  Mommy, I’m done.  Can you shake my penis?  (I reach down and shake the skin above his penis.)  Thank you, Mommy.

 

Me: Good job, Tornado E!

 

Tornado E: (looking down at his penis) Good job, penis!

 

As we finished up dinner later that night, I told my husband of the new penis story, which he laughed.

 

Tornado E: (looking down at his penis because he had just gone to the bathroom) Good job, penis.  You went potty well.  (Looking at us.)  I have a baby penis.  Daddy, you have a daddy penis.  Tornado S has a baby penis.  Mommy, you have a mommy penis.

 

Me: No, Tornado E.  Girls don’t have penises.  They have vaginas.

 

Tornado E: No, Mommy, girls have . . . um . . . ah . . . they have  . . . ah . . . um . . . they have bottoms!  Girls have bottoms.

 

Me: Yes, girls have bottoms.

 

Tornado E: Girls have bottoms.  Boys have bottoms.  I have a bottom, too.  I go poop with my bottom.  I go diarrhea.

 

I am amazed that my son already thinks that he knows more than me, and my husband is amazed that Tornado E likes the word diarrhea so much.

Peeing incidents

Yes, potty training has it’s ups and downs and many, many hilarious moments.  As a mother of boys, the penis has several fun tricks for boys to learn.  I wonder how potty training is for girls.  I am amazed.  A-mazed by how often that little tiny organ gets so exciting.

As I wrote yesterday, we have a new penis rule.  Rule #4 do not show your penis out in public.  Maybe I should revise that and say don’t show it to any one.  The other day as the boys and I ate dinner (my husband often comes home too late for the “starving” boys to eat), Tornado E pulled down his underwear to see his penis.  Yes, it’s still there.  Keep eating.  He was surprised by the penis’s new trick.  “Look, Mommy!  It’s standing!”  Yes, that’s what penises can do.  Please pull your underwear up and finish your mac and cheese.  I wonder how much easier it would be to have girls.

Yesterday we were cooking dinner, and the boys were running around, being pirate-explorers, looking through binoculars and spy-glasses.  My husband was grilling outside as I made the sides outside.  My best friend was keeping an eye on the boys, when Tornado E yelled with glee, “I went pee outside!”  We are looking at rule number five, aren’t we?  Because this was the second time that day.  My best friend and my husband congratulated Tornado E.  I came out and explained to Tornado E how he couldn’t get candy if he peed outside.  He was just too proud of his accomplishment to care.  Hmm.  I think that was a sign.  A minute late my best friend asked me to come outside again.  She pointed to a large circle made with wet concrete that had a diameter of four feet, and the wet line making the circle was four inches thick.

BF: What do you think that is?

I looked around to see if any squirt guns or hose or anything that made water was around.  I shrugged.

Me: I don’t know.  (pause, thinking).  Oh God.  That can’t be pee.  There’s too much!

BF: That’s what I was thinking.  But it can’t be anything else.

Me: No.  Hey, can you come over here?

My husband left the grilling hot dogs, making sure the boys were on the other side of the yard.

Me: Do you know what made that?  (I pointed to the circle)

Husband: No.  The hose?

BF: Tornado E!  Can you come over here?

Me: Please.  (aside) We have to remember to use our manners to set examples.

BF: right.  Tornado E, can you please come here?  (Tornado E was already there.  She bent down to be eye level.)  Tornado E, were did you pee?  Can you show me?

Tornado E: (turned in a circle) Right there!  I ran around!  I made a circle!

Great!  My son has already learned how to make shapes with his pee.  That’s awesome.  If he knew how to write his name, he would have done that.  Wait.  That might be a great way to teach him!

Or not.  It’s just a thought.

This morning my husband related to me about Tornado S’s peeing adventure.  As he watched the boys by himself, my husband was playing with Tornado E, building a Lego tower, while Tornado S played with the police cars.  My husband looked up to see Tornado S had silently wandered away from the family room.  My husband called for Tornado S.  Out of the bathroom came a smiling Tornado S.  Without his diaper.  My husband smiled and grabbed him, asking Tornado S were his diaper was.  That’s when my husband noticed the bottom of Tornado S’s shirt was wet.  He raced into the bathroom to find the diaper laying on the floor.  Right next to a giant puddle of pee.  My husband was completely horrified.  Welcome to parenthood, baby!

So there you have it one peeing adventure after another.  Honestly I should have known they were going to turn out like boys.  As I remember it, my brothers and cousins were always using potty humor.  And now Tornado E is too.  The word “poop” makes him giggle.  I’m raising honest-to-God, authentic boys.  Before you know it, they’ll be able to burp their names.  Tornado E already pretends to burp because he can’t figure out how to force out a burp.   I remain calm and just remind him to say excuse me, which he usually does.  But he and Tornado S are ALL boy.  God help me!