Mommy with a Penis

Yesterday, in Maxie's cubby at school, there were two soiled pairs of panties, two soiled pairs of pants and a soiled pair of lavender boots. Don't even ask how she urinated into her footwear. This isn't a total surprise. Maxie has had problems holding it in. I've brought up my concerns with her doctor and she tells me there's nothing to worry about, my daughter's bladder isn't growing at the same rate that she is. I don't know if that makes total sense, but I'm appeased for now. I thought Maxie was going to be a savant on the toilet. When she and I first started pre preschool ( pre pre, isn't it precious) my daughter was the only child not wearing a Pull-Up or diaper. Boy, didn't I feel superior watching the other parents fret about the school's rule that all children must be potty trained before they enter day classes. But once we graduated pre pre and entered half-day, Maxie has peed herself on occasion and overnight I became the fret...

For Fatherhood Friday, a little ditty about fathers and daughters... "Papa!" I was summoned. "Papa!" It was six forty and baby girl was about to make her morning pronouncement. "Papa!" "Coming." I lumbered out of bed wondering what she'd say today. It could be anything from I like bananas to Kitty cat is fuzzy. I remember when she said I want to do ballet and I thought, "Okay, kid, you're two, how the hell do you know about ballet?" The answer to that did not take too much sleuthing. Maxie is an Olivia freak. You know, the precocious piglet with a vivid imagination. Was a book, now a popular TV series on Nick Jr. I think there are only about twelve episodes and they practically run on a loop in our house. I can quote from it verbatim. In one episode, Olivia does ballet, and Maxie wanted to as well. The thing about these pronouncements, I'm one of those doting parents who will try to make it happen. Bananas, simple. But bal...

I was at preschool with my daughter, who was arm deep in a water tray full of bubbles. I happened to make what I thought was a safe observation, "Of course she into this, she loves bubble baths." Safe, right? I couldn't imagine anyone criticizing my parenting skills by that statement. But one mommy looked at me with a cocked head and let out a high pitched, "Oh." You know the kind of "oh" that immediately demands your attention, like a dog whistle to a Bichon Frisé. I didn't know what was to follow, but I silently cursed because my deflector shields were down leaving my undersides vulnerable. Mommy continued, "You let your daughter take bubble baths?" Spoken in the same tone my mother used to ambush my father: You’re not really going to wear that tie, are you? The seemingly innocuous question packed with overtones. The conversation became as dangerous to navigate as class five rapids. I answered mommy’s query as if I was caught at the bo...