I've been popping him in his Bumbo seat to watch me as I toddle around the kitchen baking, cooking, generally being my badass Masterchef self and I'm not sure when I noticed but he has suddenly become very aware of his little hoofs. Usually he's totally mesmerised by my beauty and awesomeness but I turned around one day, to engage in him yet another witty repartee and he was staring with intense concentration at his foot. As I watched he flexed and pointed his toes and then kicked, all the while staring in wide eyed shock and amazement.
I can only guess at the inner monologue: 'They're actually attached to me. I'm doing that! I'm moving those things with the sheer force of MY MIND! I'm a fucking SUPER BABY! MUM are getting this shit?!' At some point he realised I was watching and gave me a big gummy. I took the zillionth photo of the day. Cute as shit this kid, I tell ya.
The second, and probably if I was a man I would say the most important, discovery was his doodle. We were doing a nappy change, and over the last few weeks he has become a wriggle monster. I fear for his safety on the change table as the boisterous kicking and wriggling is getting out of control. Can you rig up some sort of harness on that thing? Has someone invented that yet?! Anyway he's kicking my arm, kicking my chest, kick kick kicking away, arms flailing all over the place when suddenly he grabs hold of it. Yes. It. He then proceeds to squash it. SQUASH. IT. And then PULL IT! He's pulling his pud!!! OMG. I have no idea what to do, or say. The legs are still pumping all over the place and the other arm is windmilling but that hand is still attached to his little winky while he talks a mile a minute. This is my approach:
'Yes Mushroom. That's your penis. Penis.' Big gummy grins. Windmill, kick, windmill. 'Ahhhh, ooooooo, mweh, heeee'. Continues to grasp at crotch area. 'Yes darling, that's your little doodle. I mean your doodle. I didn't mean to say it's little. It's only little cos you're a little person.... not that your doodle is little. I mean penis. And it doesn't matter if you grow up and your penis is little. Because size doesn't matter. Does it? Oh fuck. Mummy has fucked up this speech royally!'
Not only have I given him a complex about his doodle, I've also used the word fuck in front of him. Again. He's still jabbering away at me, oblivious to the harm that I may have already inflicted on his young psyche with that stellar parenting moment, so I gingerly remove his hand and finishing nappying him up. Which he doesn't like. My boy likes being nude. Hey, who doesn't? I try to get him to grasp his Wot Wot toy but it doesn't seem to garner as much interest as his own bits.
At bath time that night with Daddy, Mushroom proudly shows him that he's found his doodle. Juffin just laughs, says 'What have you got there?' and moves on. Seriously. Why didn't I just do that?
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| "What did you say about my doodle Mum?!" |
Next time: More stellar parenting moments
Disclaimer: I realise that little boys do play with their genitalia and that it's completely normal. Ironically, so do big boys. I also realise that I can't have possibly harmed my son's psyche yet. I'm pretty sure anyway. That is all.
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