Having sons, I was fully aware that -
at some point in the distant future - there would come a time when my boys
would be predominantly preoccupied with vaginas, and their teenage heads would
contain nothing but food and furry triangles (if they were so inclined, of
course).
But that was all in the back my mind,
a far flung matter in my child-rearing schedule. I figured that I had a good
twelve or thirteen years of V-free parental concerns.
Beau only gave me three.
It all began rather innocently, with
Beau understanding the fundamental differences between boys and girls. Namely:
penises and vaginas, amongst other far less intriguing and less humorous things.
Jas and I didn't clutter or colour the
facts with willies and ginnies, as many other parents do. Why provide cute
nicknames to avoid the precise terminology? And with so many cutsie labels for
their noodle, wang-wang, peenie, pecker, donger or doodle, which one would you
use?
To our boys, everything downstairs was
either a vagina, a penis or a scrotum; they would learn all of the nicknames in
the playground classroom.
Now the problem was, once Beau
understood these differences, he was keen to share them with the WHOLE WORLD.
Beau created some consternation on the
topic with his female playmates at day care. When the little girls were having
a quiet pee, Beau took it upon himself to educate them on their anatomical
make-up: "Do you know, you are a GIRL and you have a VAGINA?"
There was instant conflict: the girls
argued that they did not have a vagina as they had a ginny, a foo-foo, a
twinkle, a bajingo, a front bum or whatever their parents told them to call
their hoo-hoos. And Beau - being Beau – was fully armed with the facts and would
not surrender to emotional pleas to the contrary.
So washroom war broke out and the
teachers were parachuted in to bring peace to the Battle of the Sex Bits. They had to resolve the matter of terminology by explaining to the little
upset lasses that they did, in fact, possess a vagina.
That wasn’t all. Shortly after the toilet
skirmish, there was an occasion - again at day care - I truly wish I was a fly
on the wall.
Now Beau was often one of the
last children to be picked up each evening. The social creature that he is,
Beau has a little chat to parents as they collect their offspring and he has come to know all of the parents. By child. By name. And by the car they drove.
On the oh-to-be-a-fly-on-the-wall-day Beau
greeted one of the mothers as they came to pick up their child.
"Hi Michelle! "
"Hi Beau! How are you?"
Everyone knows Beau.
Beau then cut to the chase and rendered Michelle
speechless: "Michelle, do you know that you are a GIRL and you have a
VAGINA?"
The teachers in earshot struggled to
keep a straight face.
I wonder if Michelle now avoids Beau.
On a shopping trip some time later,
Jas pre-occupied Beau with some colouring-in. A shop provided some pencils with paper
containing images of people. Beau began colouring in with earnest as Jas went
about her business.
On reviewing Beau's work she found he had only coloured in the female images on the paper; not only that, he had only coloured in one specific part of them….all with a brown pencil.
Beau had spent all of his time
creating anatomically correct maps of Tasmania.
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