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Friday, October 2, 2009

Weinis Anxiety

A few weeks ago it was the first day of preschool for my infant son (ok, he just turned 4), the youngest of my four children. He went to the same preschool last year, loves his teacher. Loves his friends. Had his little talking Cars shirt all picked out, backpack packed, and he was happy it was his first day of school.

I thought I’d be fine- I had cried it out last year, when the youngest of my four children, who had rudely REFUSED to keep nursing after 18 months, deserted me in favor of a rolling Cars backpack; he didn’t even look back.

So we get in the car with Ollie, our 8 month old Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Ollie is riding in the back with Bobby. Because he is a relentless lap dog, he is trying to get into Bobby’s lap, which is difficult considering Bobby is in a car seat. Then I hear this, from the backseat:

Bobby: “Ollie’s steppin on my wiener.”

Oh, geez.

Me: “Bobby, did your sisters teach you that word?”

Bobby: “Yeah. And he’s steppin on it.”

I shove the dog to the seat beside the wie- beside the kid.

Me: (clearing throat) “Bobby you know the real word for that is your penis. Wiener is… like a nickname. Right?”

Bobby: “Molly and Faith don’t have a wiener.”

Help me, Tom Cruise.

Me: “No, honey, your sisters…girls don’t have a penis.”

Bobby: “Then how do girls pee?”

HolymotherofGodprayforme. This is NOT. HAPPENING.

Me: “Um, honey. Girls have a vagina, and we sit when we pee.”

Bobby: “Ollie has a wienis, too.”

Me: “A what?!

Bobby: “Ollie has a wienis, and he is still steppin on my wienis.”

Why, Baby Jesus? Why have you abandoned me?

Me: “Ok, honey. Look! We’re almost at school!”

So we made it there, finally, without additional talk of wienises and vaginas with my infant son, who now for some Godforsaken reason knows about girls sitting down when we pee.

Then, when I dropped him off, I cried. I can’t believe it happened. I just started crying. My baby, at school. (Of course I was like SEE YA when the highschool/middleschool/
elementary school girls started last week). My youngest kid left me in favor of a sexy mistress of a playground, and Speed Racer lunchbox, and happy nappy time.

But wait. First day in the house with no kids? Shouldn’t I be lying out by the pool boy with a margarita? And don’t I no longer have NO EXCUSE to have an insanely messy house?

I should be celebrating. But I’m just not used to the quiet.

Quiet sucks wienis.

by Mary McCarthy (marymac) blog: Pajamas and Coffee
Facebook user name: pajamasandcoffee Twitter: @marymac

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