Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Baginas


I came up with this bright idea – probably after reading some blog that some expert wrote – that I was suddenly going to be this really progressive mom.  I decided upon taking the approach that if Little K, who is 4, is old enough to ask a question then he is old enough to hear the honest (yet age-appropriate) answer.  One of my friends told me later that this approach is a “slippery slope”.  She wasn’t kidding.

Little K must have some weird intuition, because immediately after I decided to start being so awesome, this conversation happened.


Little K:  Mom?  Do girls have wieners?
Me:  No, we’ve talked about this before.  Girls do not have wieners.
Little K:  But some girls do.
Me:  No.  No girls do.
Little K:  But yittle girls do.
Me:  No buddy.  No girls have wieners.
Little K:  But why?  Because God forgot to give them wieners?
Me:  No.  God built boys and girls differently so that mommies can have babies.
Little K:  But what do they have instead?
Me (suddenly remembering I read somewhere that I was supposed to call private parts by their real names for some reason or another):  Vaginas.  Girls have vaginas.
Little K:  BAGINAS?  What’s a BAGINA?
Me:  That’s what girls have instead of wieners (my maturity clearly only goes so far because I can’t bring myself to say the word penis – honestly I can hardly even type it).
Little K:  Why?
Me:  Because that’s where babies come out.
Little K:  How?
Me:  There’s a hole in it.
Little K(appalled that baginas are obviously broken): There’s a HOLE in it?!?!
Me:  Yes.  That’s how God made girls.
Little K:  Mom?
Me:  Yeah?
Little K:  I like purple.
Me:  Awesome.


I felt like I was rocking this parenting thing.  I answered his questions and he was satisfied with my answers.  Disillusionment guys.  Disillusionment.

A few days later, I was going to the bathroom – which, if you are a parent, you know this is not a solo activity.  I notice Little K is tilting his head and trying to look in the toilet.  As I try to turn away from him, I asked, “What are you doing?”  “Mom, what’s a bagina?” he asked.  “Out!  From now on Mommy gets to potty alone.”  “But where does potty come out if you don’t have a wiener?!”  I honestly had no clue how to answer this one, and certainly wasn’t in the mood to teach him any more anatomy vocabulary words.  So I went with what I thought was the best answer and told him that girls go potty out of their vaginas.  And then?  Then he started crying.  “NO MOM!  BABIES COME OUT OF BAGINAS!  NOT PEE!!”  I think I probably imperceptibly mumbled the words “f#&% he is way too smart” under my breath.


Next he told my mom, “Grandma you have a bagina.”  I hadn’t warned her of his new knowledge, and for a woman who taught my sister and me that our nether-regions were called potties, you can imagine that she was a bit caught off guard.

*Side note… I have a friend whose mom taught her growing up that her hoo-ha was called a twat.  And that twat is a completely acceptable, non-profane word.  So there’s that.*

Anyway, today, 
Little K and I were in the car and I walked right into another great mom moment.



Me:  Little K do you know that Mommy and Daddy prayed really hard for you?  You were our miracle blessing.Little K:  You prayed for me?
Me:  Yes.
Little K:  To get better when I was sick?
Me:  Well, yes.  But I mean for you to come to us as a baby.  We prayed and prayed and prayed for a baby to be in my tummy.
Little K:  How did I get in there?
Me (thinking “shit”):  Well, Daddy helped put you in there.
Little K:  He pushed me in there?  Because he’s so strong?
Me:  I guess, sort of.
Little K (pouting):  I’m not EVER going to have another baby.
Me:  Well, Mommy can’t have another baby.
Little K:  I have an idea!  I can push a baby in your tummy!
Me:  No!  No, that can’t happen.  Someday you will probably get married and you will have a baby with your wife.
Little K:  A fife?
Me:  A wife.  Someday you will probably marry a girl and she will be your wife.
Little K(with the enthusiasm of a disenchanted disgruntled husband): Every day I already spend all day wong with my wife.
Me:  Who’s your wife?
Little K:  Jesus.



Clearly I have no clue what I’m doing.  I’m pretty sure the experts don’t know what they are doing either.  I kind of think that we are all just doing the best we can.  My son has an insatiable curiosity.  I’m learning that giving him facts only fills him with more inquisitiveness.  Maybe I can start distracting him a sucker every time he asks an uncomfortable question.  It might cause cavities, but it might make parent-teacher conferences less awkward.



All I know for sure is that there are plenty of days that there is not nearly enough coffee in all of Columbia to successfully parent my curious preschooler.
Thank you for keeping me In Good Company.

1 comment:

  1. oh my gosh! That made me laugh so hard. Funny enough I have already been trying to tell my mom their private parts are called penis's is not other names.

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