penis

The other day, my three year old daughter said, "Papa, I like your penis." Lately I've tried to be more gracious when receiving praise, but somehow saying thank you seemed entirely wrong. Likewise, returning the compliment, "And honey, I like your vagina," was completely out of the question. I'm doing my best not to read too much into this statement. Oh, who am I fooling? I'm trying not to freak the fuck out.

But when I slow down and put it in perspective, I realize that yesterday she said, "I like your glasses," followed by "I like your big teeth." So very possibly she's in an I like phase. Even still, "I like boy" was only last month and her progression to "I like your penis" is alarming.

We're pretty free and loose with nudity in our house. We toss off penis and vagina in the same blase manner as if we were saying nose or elbow. We want our children to feel comfortable with their bodies, and yet we remind, "That is for you to touch and no one else." Free and easy but keep your knees together. Could signals be any more crossed?

We didn't call it a penis when I was growing up. My mother gave it the unfortunate moniker of do do. (Sounding like the opposite of don't don't, rather than the extinct bird.) Mom is a self proclaimed prude and after she taught my brother and I what to call it and where to pee with it, I don't recall her discussing anything below the waist until I was going through puberty.

I was in junior high when she gave me a book entitled Boys and Sex. She wanted me to read it and ask her questions. Instead I hid it behind my Hardy Boys collection. But she was really excited to be helping me through this stage of my life so she kept after me to read the book. After putting her off for a couple of weeks I thought the matter closed, but Sally had bigger plans. She wanted to invite the author over to our house, along with some of my friends and their fathers, and have a Boys and Sex workshop. Thankfully, my father is as private as I am when it comes to matters of the do do.

Could you imagine? Sitting around with your friends talking about the changes in you body. Nothing could have been more mortifying, except perhaps if my mother were to have walked in on me while I was stroking Mr. Happy. Oh, wait a minute. That did happen. Pounding the pudding, choking the chicken, Morking the Mindy. I've all but blocked out that memory. Wetting your Willie, whacking the weasel, making the bald man cry. The scar it left goes deep. Greasing the flagpole, making a banana split, firing the Surgeon-General. She quickly closed the door and then talked through it as if nothing had happened, "What sounds good for dinner?"

"You know what sounds good, how about leaving me alone!"

The next time I was aware that my parents were aware I had a penis was in my mid teens. I walked out of the shower and my dad was there. He looked at me with what felt like pride. His oldest was becoming an adult. I was okay with the unspoken father son moment, but about a week later my mother said, "Your dad says you have a bigger do do than he does."

A temporary amnesia set in. I have no idea how I responded but I would like to think I had the balls to have said, "Back off, Mrs. Robinson!" In reality, I probably scrambled around like a hamster in a plastic ball trying to escape, but bumping into furniture instead.

Then today, as if to say I want to be part of this blog entry too, my son came into the kitchen totally naked with a partial woody and he said with gleeful pride, "Look, Papa, my penis is pointing." I acknowledged that it was indeed pointing and he left the room.

This brings to mind a moment when he was three (I'm sure the topic of many therapy sessions to come) and I came bursting into his room to put clothes away. Sebastian was lying on his bed fondling himself. Frank your Sinatra, strangling the spitting cobra, Impeaching Tricky Dick. And he yelled at me with disdain, "Look what you did, Papa, you made it go down."

I wanted to tell him, that yes, there will be certain disappointments. It's easy to get hung up on cock sure ideals, however don't let your ego get pricked.

But instead, I did what I was taught. I pretended not to notice, left his room and through a closed door asked him what he wanted for dinner.