Showing posts with label my mom's a nutbox. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my mom's a nutbox. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

It made passing the gravy very awkward

One of the most glorious parts of being a parent is marveling over your children’s milestones: first tooth, first solid food, first steps and yes, the first time your child finds flatulence funny (where’s the spot for that in the baby book, huh?).

Junior’s encroaching on another milestone, which is the realization that Mommy is a girl with girl parts and Dad is a dude with dude parts. I suppose I could play this one by the book and use formal terminology when instructing Junior, but part of the fun of being a parent is coming up with crazy ass names for your junk.

Right?

Take my mom. When my brother Ted and I were growing up, she called a penis a wingle—which sounds like something you’d stick to your roof. Like, “Is that damn wingle loose again?” When Ted got his first, um, you know, erection at Thanksgiving when he was a toddler, and he started yelling, “My wingle won’t go down!” at the dinner table, my aunts and uncles were perplexed.

“What the hell’s a wingle?” my grandmother shouted.

(My dad took Ted into the bathroom.)

Also bizarre was my mother’s nickname for vaginas. She called them cooties, which really confused me on the playground. Why were people giving each other vaginas? How could a boy possibly have a bad case of vaginas?

It still throws me off.

But now the fun begins. Now it’s my turn to assign some ridiculous pet name to our body parts. For the manstick, I’ve chosen the ever-popular wiener, just because I love the word. I wish my name were Wilhelmina Wiener, in fact, because then I’d been Winnie Wiener and no one—no one—would ever be able to say my name with a straight face.

As for the cha-chas, Junior’s kind of beat me to it. He thinks the girls are extra bellies. Just this morning he patted them and said, “Mommy, you have nice bellies.”

So, holyshit, he’s a boob man, not a leg man.

I’m telling you, the baby books are missing lines for all the good milestones.

Do you have a funny nickname you use with your kids when you talk about body parts, or did your parents traumatize you with strange nicknames? Don't leave the wingle hanging!

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