Are you raising a boy? Did he wear your crotch as the world’s tightest sombrero while you labored to birth him for three #$%#ing hours?
If you answered yes to either question, then my condolences. You’ve already played Chromosomal Roulette and lost. I know, I played too. And let me assure you it’s a lifelong punch to the ovaries.
Gone are the dreams of pink ruffles and sequined lace, wrapped all pretty with a shiny ribbon. Sure, you ordered another double X, but that inbred stork delivered a big, bold Y.
Not to worry, I shot that bastard out of the sky.
It seems harsh, I know, but I tell you this out of love, to prepare you for the stark reality of boy raising. Believe me, it’s better to start this adventure armed.
You have a boy. He has a penis.
Catching on yet?
Take this scenario–> It’s Mother’s Day. Your children have made you breakfast, given you gifts, and after many hugs and kisses, raced outside to play, leaving you to sip the remainder of your coffee in peace.
Your husband glances out the window, goes bug-eyed and squawks, “he’s got his dick out there!”
After another calm sip of coffee, you nod your head. “Yes, dear, he usually has his dick when in here too. What’s the upset?”
“No, I mean he has his dick out, out there!”
Ohhh. Totally different sentence, y’all. This is why annunciation is key in communicating. I heard, “The male child is in possession of his penis while out of doors.”
Which I must state, seems appropriate. I keep my stuff with me at all times.
What he meant was, “The GD kid is brandishing his pecker like a two inch whip at anything not running away in fullblown, unadulterated terror.” And if he catches it, he urinates on it (urinate is a polite euphemism for piss himself empty–I’m keeping it classy for you).
Well, that’s a big @#$%ing problem. Before you turn your contemptuous gaze my way, know this–I don’t have a penis, thus didn’t teach him the dick-whip. However, my friend has a farm and we visit often so the kids can play together. Once, when said male child had to pee, my friend said, “Just go outside. My son does it all the time.”
I’ve explained the difference between an emergency pee on a tree and watering the neighbors dog, and yet, here we are. Still, aside from my son’s flesh flash, it was a great Mother’s Day.
How was yours?