Conversations With Zizi: The Anatomy Lesson
I debated with myself all day about whether or not I should write this post. Doing so would probably cement my status as a mommy blogger from hell whose kid is going to end up on some therapist’s couch. I never wanted to be that mommy blogger… I never wanted to cross that line. Yet I’m told that after circulating the Making Poopy video when she was a few months old, the kid is already doomed to a lifetime of therapy thanks to Mommy Dearest. But last night’s little exchange was just too funny for words and I’m sorry, she’ll hate me for it in a few years, but this isn’t one I can keep to myself. Maybe I can beg her forgiveness later, or bribe her with shoes.
It started during our evening battle with her diaper change after she had made poopy. Though she knows how to make poop in the potty, somehow she just feels that it’s somehow much easier to just crap in her pull-up instead of stopping to take a break from watching Dora the Explorer and going to sit on the potty… unless of course we think to bring the potty out in front of the television so she can watch Dora and do her business at the same time.
So the kid has been pretty wiggy about getting that whole introital/vulval area cleaned for a while now. As parents, we’re not big fans of having crap contaminate and irritate what should be a poop-free zone. We try to wipe and she starts behaving like my old team patients afraid of the pelvic exam. Her hips start levitating in her legs start clenching. So many times I’ve almost said, “Relax and come back down to the table,” like I used to in my office for all those years. I’ve tried many other methods to get her to relax, but girlfriend just doesn’t want the cha-cha area wiped. (Before anybody goes there, there’s no badness going on. She just tends to be dramatic about many things.)
I then decided to take a different tack. “What’s the matter Z?” I asked, “don’t you want me to clean the poopy?”
“I don’t like it when you wipe me down there,” she whined.
“That’s not ‘down there’ Z. Those are your girl parts,” I explained. “Do you want to know what everything in your private area is called?”
“Yeah,” she said eagerly.
“Well give me your pointing figure and let me tell you.”
She handed me her little fist with her index finger pointing and I started the lesson, “this is your mons pubis. This is where hair is going to grow when you’re older. Can you say mons pubis?”
“Moms pubit,” she attempted.
“Good try. You were very close, but it’s mons and its pubis,” I repeated.
“Moms pubis!”
“Very good! Now these two places on the sides of your vagina (the vajajay has already been covered) are called the labia majora. That’s a hard one. Can you say labia majora?”
“Liana…”
“No honey,” I interrupted, “not Liana, it’s labia. Liana is Mommy’s name, remember?”
“Lay-be-yah,” she enunciated.
“Majora.”
“Mjora,” she tried.
“Excellent Z!”
“Look Mommy, there’s one on this side and there’s one on the other side,” she said pointing excitedly to her, well…labia.
“Absolutely sweetheart! You are so smart! And hiding underneath the labia majora are the little labia minora. They are very small and we can only feel them when we do frog leg position. Can you try saying labia minora?”
“Liana…”
“No, that’s Mommy’s name, again. It’s lay-be-a,” I enunciated for her.
“Major…minrora,” she finished.
“Excellent!” I said, noting that she hadn’t been flinching nearly as much during this anatomy lesson as she usually did with our wiping.
“And you know what this part is right here?” I continued.
She shook her head.
“That’s your clitoris,” I explained, “can you say clitoris?”
“Yes Mommy,” she said smiling, “Curious George!”
At which point I almost drew blood biting my tongue as I fought to keep from laughing. Clitoris and Curious George? I don’t know whether to get her a hearing test or decide she’s some sort of savant! I did correct her to complete our lesson. But good lord, every time I think about that little monkey, I’m on the floor hysterical.
AdoringHusband and I are begging, no, pleading with the fates to not have her bring home a boyfriend whose name is George because the minute she introduces him the two of us, we will collapse in a heap on the floor in histrionics, probably laughing ourselves into myocardial infarctions. Yet no one but us, and you my blog readers, will have any idea why.
BWAHAHAHAHAHA! That’s awesome.
that’s one for the books!
luna´s last blog ..how do you do it?
OMG I’m dying here! That is just too funny.
Julie´s last blog ..4 Years ago
Youu just gave ME a lesson in female anatomy.