‘Mammy, do you have a willy??’

So… THIS line of questioning began this morning while I was in the shower. Jacob, 3 years of age and proud owner of a willy of his very own, joined me in the bathroom while I was washing myself. As usual. (Is it just my partner or does every dad get to shower alone, while I get plagued by my little visitor each time I attempt to close the bathroom door behind me?!)

We discussed the ‘cool bubbles’ in the shower tray as we always do, and he monitored them slipping down the drain. And then we went through our ‘Morning Questions’ ritual:

Me: ‘Did you have a nice sleep?’

Jacob: ‘Yes’ (did he fuck – he hasn’t slept properly for weeks)

Me: ‘Did you have nice dreams?’

Jacob: ‘Yes’

Me: ‘What did you dream about?’

Jacob: ‘I dreamt about the owls and the fire engines and the bubbles and the green tractor’.

Me: ‘Do you feel happy?’

Jacob: ‘Yes’

And we grin like weirdos, trying to ‘out smile’ each other if we can. But then he cocked his little head to the side, as a new question formed – one that hasn’t been (and I hope isn’t about to be!) added to the daily list:

‘Mammy – do you have a willy?’

SO. FRICKIN. FUNNY. I had just been on the telly last night contributing to a piece on nudity in Ireland and one of my main points when interviewed (which wasn’t used in the program), was that I LOVE how kids have no hang ups about their bodies when they are kids, because the stupid media and the stupid society and the stupid other mean kids and the stupid pass-remarkable grannies etc haven’t gotten to them yet. 

So I smiled, and just said ‘No I don’t, just boys have willies Jacob’. I WAS going to say ‘Mammy has a …. ‘ – what word would I use?! What’s the equivalent to ‘willy’? Daisy? Fandora? Front bum?! HELP! But I decided that I didn’t have to go there, coz this morning, we were just talking about willies. And he seemed happy enough with that, nodded his head sagely for a moment before adding:

‘Poppy doesn’t have a willy’. 

Poppy is a girl in his pre-school class. Another 3 year old. Jaysus. I took a little breath and decided against asking him how he knew that Poppy doesn’t have a willy, but to be honest, I’m sure that it doesn’t really matter when you’re talking to a three year old. So instead, I said;

‘That’s right. Poppy doesn’t have a willy. Just boys have willies’.

‘Yes they do, Mammy’ he agreed. And promptly pulled his pants down right there to present his amazing willy to me. The proof was in the pull-ups. Proud boy ;o)