OK, now that the disclaimer's over with...
If you don't have a son, or a small boy, teenager, or adult male in your life, you might not get this. If you grew up in a tribe consisting of only women, you really won't understand.
What is it with boys and their...erm...junque?
Really...the Evil Genius has to be reminded dozens of times a day (sometimes an hour) that he is not to have his penis out in public, most times "public" being defined as anywhere but his bedroom or bathroom (which I have deemed appropriate places for him to have the little feller out for...whatever), especially anywhere other people can see it.
Does he listen? Nope. Seconds later, he's at it again, pulling it out through the flap in his underwear, or out the side through the leg hole, or just walking around clutching the entire package through the fabric with a far away look on his face.
Y'all, he's five-and-a-half. Now, I know they play with in in the womb, and when they figure out their chubby baby hands can be controlled, they start up again once they're out in the world...but honestly, if playing with yourself really could make you go blind, he'd be wearing dark glasses and walking with a cane or a dog or something.
I don't have an issue with him and his favorite pastime - I get it, really. Still, every now and then I want to remind him that that thing is attached, so please quit pulling on it like it's made of rubber, and no, I really am not interested in how many ways you can make it bounce up and down or side to side, thank you, and if you keep doing that it's going to stay that way!
I had no idea they were so...stretchy. I didn't really want to know, to be honest - while I think the male anatomy can be an endless source of amusement for those who consent to get involved with it, I wasn't really game for enduring my son's marathon self-amusement years. Neither is anyone else. Our poor roommate, J, is afraid to look away from the television on the rare occasions he emerges from
Last week, I had to utter a sentence I would never have thought necessary (and before I had my own kid, I spent nearly twenty years raising or teaching other people's children - you'd think this would have come up) - I had to tell my son not to play with his penis and then pick his nose. Unable to leave well enough alone, I went beyond the call of duty (and the bounds of sanity) and explained that was like sticking your penis up your nose. Yeah, he laughed until he nearly wet himself and I realized I'd made a tactical error. Sigh.
When it's just us at home, I'm not all that pressed - but he really needs to learn to keep his hands North of the Mason-Dixon when we have company or are out in the world. I'm considering one of those shock collars they make for dogs...but then he'll end up on the cover of some funky S&M/B&D magazine* when he's twenty, I just know it.
So what's a gal to do?
*Not that there's anything wrong with that if it's what you're into - but do you really think your mother wants to know she's the reason you all done up in a gimp suit?? Yeah, I didn't think so.