"That's my junk, Dad" Bubba Hoss says, exasperated from me.  "I have a junk and Bacon Hoss has a junk.  Little Hoss has a koochie."  he goes on to explain.

I am paying for a previous misstatement, a mistake in parental judgement.  Instead of teaching my children the proper names for private areas, I decided to go with "junk" and "koochie".  At the time, it sounded funny.  It also bothered me with hearing my 2 year old daughter at the time saying penis.  It just didn't sit well with me.  It doesn't sit well with me now.  I fully accept I am a Neanderthal that should be frozen in a block of ice somewhere.  I don't care, I'm fine with that.  I just want to make sure that any boy that dates my daughter at any time in the future is considered junk.  That sounds like I gave this a lot more thought than I actually did.  It just made me laugh.

But the time has come to correct that mistake.  The birds and bees talks do not sound right with calling things a junk and a koochie.  Mind you, hearing my daughter say penis and my son say vagina doesn't sound right either but I'm picking the lesser of two evils here.  I'm sure I am repressed in some way, I blame Oprah.

So I am trying to explain to Bubba Hoss that his junk isn't really called junk.  It's called a penis.  And he's right, there are three boys in the house and we all have junk.  But we will call them penises.  Side note, the plural of penis sounds pretty bad as well but it's better than calling it a junkyard.  Well, not really, junkyard strikes me as funny........

No, I must stay on task.  There are two girls in the house.  They both have vagina's.  I explain this to my son in what is the first of many scar inducing talks we will have.  Other topics will involve sex, masturbation, and golden showers.  All of which I'm sure will make him want to die the minute I bring them up.  I am hoping to do it in front of his friends or preferably, his girlfriend.  Then I get to scar two for the price of one and ensure that no teenage pregnancies take place.  Perhaps I am good at this parenting thing.

"Girls have a vagina" I tell my son.  He again looks at me like I am smoking crack.  "Vagina" I say again.  The absurdity of this conversation is starting to dawn on me.

"No Dad!" he says.  "Girls have koochies!"  He seems very sure of himself and it's a bit rough to try and deflate him.

I explain that we do call a vagina koochies when we are little but now we need to call them a vagina now.  I am hoping that I won't have to add that this is because your dad thought it was easier this way when you were smaller and that basically I have turned out to be a complete dumbass.  I think he knows though.  My son and I, we have a special connection.

"Baginas?" he says.

"No son." I correct him.  "Vaginas" I say again slowly.  "Girls have vaginas"

"Baginas" he replays.

"Vaginas" I say correcting him.




"Vagaina, with a V"

"Baginas with a V"

"No son.  Va.  Gin.  A."

"Ba.  Gin.  A."

I am getting a bit frustrated but it's ok, I'm an experienced Dad.  Frustration is just part of the gig.

"Dad" Bubba Hoss says.

"Yes son?"

"Bagina is a very beautiful word"

I stare at him.  I start laughing just for the weirdness of the statement.  In my favor here, this is a step up from koochie.  Yes, girls have baginas and it is a very beautiful word.  Perhaps I do know what I'm doing.

1 comment: