Last week, Briar watched me carry a box of feminine hygiene products from the grocery bag to the bathroom.
"Are those for your bum?", he asked.
"Um.", not sure as to what the appropriate response for a three year old boy should be. I decided honesty was best.
"Not my bum", as I walked by.
"No. Mommy doesn't have a penis."
Following me, he asks, "Your bagina?"
"Um. Yes. My bagina...er, vagina." After all, I've heard that using proper terminology is best.
"Oh.", he says. I breathe a sigh of relief hoping that I handled this encounter with anatomy, life cycles and privacy 'properly'.
Hours later, Briar enters my bedroom for a visit while I put away laundry. As is common, he is naked. We chat about something before I even glance in his direction. When this look occurs, I can't help but notice something....on his nether regions. All my evolved and cool mom exterior is forgotten as I gasp, "What did you do, buddy????"
He answers, "I wanted to be like you." and looks down at the bandaid stuck upon his private parts.
The next twenty minutes are occupied attempting to peel terribly sticky bandaid glue from horribly sensitive little parts while discussing which people have which parts and who uses absorbent materials in their underpants and why.
Oh, joy. My poor boy is going to be so well-versed in all things female by the time he reaches age 10.