I have a big what?

Over time the kid has become more aware of the differences between girls and boys. Now, there are lots of other things that still confuse her. Like, why she doesn't have a husband, for example (although she is giving strong consideration to marrying Prince Eric from "The Little Mermaid"). And why some random boy she just met at the park five minutes ago isn't her cousin. ("This is my cousin!" "Ahhhh, no.") And why she can't have popcorn for dinner. But she does seem to have a handle on the girl/boy thing for the most part. She knows that she and I are girls and that we each have a gyna. "Guy-na" is how she pronounces it. Don't ask - it's a family thing that comes from growing up with sisters. She also knows that her father has a penis.

P and I are both fairly modest people. Maybe a lot modest. We don't walk around nakie or anything. The other day I was getting A ready for preschool when she decided she needed to use the bathroom. Her dad had just gotten out of the shower so I asked him to let her in while he was getting dressed. A few seconds later I heard, "Father, you have BIG PANTIES!"

So, we have learned that nothing is sacred. Last week we hopped in the van and headed downtown to the farmers' market ("markets farmer") and the whole boy/girl conversation somehow arose once again. "Father, you have a penis. I have a gyna." And then this: "Mama, you have a biiiiiiig . . . (I stopped breathing at this point) . . . gyna." We were at a stoplight, so I put my forehead down against the steering wheel and tried not to pass out. I'm sure my cheeks were crimson. I glanced over at P and in his efforts not to laugh, he was about to implode. "Okay, thanks," I said finally, glancing at my adorable daughter in the backseat.

I guess she figures that since everything on me is bigger than it is on her . . . that must include, well, everything. I'm just grateful that she didn't make this announcement in the check-out line at Kohl's during a Super Saturday Sale or something.

As a nearly three-year member of Weight Watchers and as someone who has lost over 50 pounds, I don't want to think of me or any part of me as being "big." One time the kid did call me "Big Mama" while the three of us were watching TV. As soon as she said it, P sucked in his breath and whispered, "Ooooh, don't ever say that, kiddo."

If you visit us, I would just recommend that you remain fully clothed at all times and that you not make direct eye contact with Little Miss Running Commentary.

Comments

radioactivegan said…
It sounds like your little bundle of cuteness is ready for a Bill Cosby show!
June 28, 2008 at 11:01 AM
mama said…
Holy crap!

How adorably innocent is she!
Wow, she is so cute! She's gonna ask about these things at some point anyway right?

So cute!
August 16, 2008 at 4:19 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

It's been a minute, but let's talk about my b*o*o*b*s

Image
I'm in the sixth grade. I'm sitting on the floor at my friend Sharon's house. Rachel is there, too. My well-meaning friends turn to me and gently let me know that I "really don't need to bother wearing a bra." They aren't wrong. I'm wearing one, but the situation doesn't particularly warrant it.  Two years later, I found myself sporting a C cup. My mom, a talented seamstress, made me a dress at about that time. It was a slim-fitting column dress with a matching jacket, as I recall. The white fabric had large polka dots; we jokingly called it the Wonder Bread dress. My mom took my measurements. 36-24-36 At some point in history, those numbers were considered "perfect measurements" for a woman. This was 1984; I'd like to think the world as a whole is less concerned about such things these days. I'm confident my daughter has no earthly idea what her measurements are. She just knows she's cute.  Growing up with a fun array of medi...
Read more

On Being Patriotic

The list of adjectives I assign to myself is pretty long: clumsy, organized, competent, uptight, etc. One that might surprise you: patriotic. I fully understand what it means to be an American and am darned happy about living here. But, I have a beef (that part won't surprise you). I've grown tired of certain segments of the population thinking that they've cornered the market on patriotism or that they can dictate precisely how the rest of us express ourselves when it comes to our shared country and flag. Sometimes it seems like the Toby-Keith-boot-in-yer-ass brand of patriotism drowns out the rest of us. For the record, I don't believe that patriotism requires a love of NASCAR, a disdain for immigrants, a Republican voting record, or a preference for country music. Nor does it require adherence to a specific religion. I've seen Facebook posts from some of my friends and acquaintances that call for all of us to return to the "Christian principles on which ...
Read more

14 Weeks

Image
My baby is leaving me in 14 weeks.  She and I started touring colleges in May of 2022. When I applied to colleges back in 1988, I was an English major so there were no auditions. Colleges basically just said, "Sounds good. Come on in." I was the first person in my immediate family to go to college and as a whole, I don't think we understood the importance of campus visits and such. I ended up being fairly miserable that first year until I transferred to a school closer to home. For my daughter, I wanted to make sure she had an opportunity to see lots of college campuses so that she had the best shot at figuring out what she wants out of the college experience. I wanted her to look at elements like campus size and location, diversity, activities, distance from home, and distance from the nearest "big city" (since performers often head to larger cities with active theatre scenes after college).  Last summer, we began the daunting process known as "getting int...
Read more