Care and Feeding

The thing I like best about The Boy is that he is still at the completely unselfconscious stage.  I have to admit to hoping that the stage will end soon, however, because I am tiring of having to yell things like “no bare buttcheeks on the sofa!” at him, and because my inner worrywart/control freak is beginning to picture scenarios involving trench coats and possibly random Tweeting in his future if he doesn’t learn to contain the streaking.

For the most part, though, it’s great to have a child who has no problem talking about ANYTHING with you.

Except maybe when the topic of conversation is testicles.  The Boy is embarking on that pre-puberty voyage of discovery, you see, and he has decided that I am a one-woman Encyclopeida Testicula, just chock-full of answers to all the great mysteries of the testicle.

In case you need reminding, my handle is Big Arm WOMAN.  So there’s a flaw in his reasoning.

Still, I gamely attempt to explain why the left may hang low, and the concept of shrinkage to the best of my ability, until I finally am compelled to point out that perhaps Hublet is better equipped to handle this line of questioning, seeing as how he is appropriately, erm, equipped.

Hublet’s advice?

“Keep them clean and dry and don’t hit them, because it will hurt.”

Elegant and simple.  Perhaps I will have it printed on The Boy’s underpants.

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