Of Potty Training and Penises

My friend Amy and I try to get together every month or so sans kids to catch up.  During these visits we invariably talk of our children.  Awhile back I told her a funny potty training story about Carter that I would have forgotten if she had not brought it up just prior to the Christmas party we cohosted two weeks ago.  It went something like this.

During one of the summer concerts in the park Carter, who was in the throes of potty training, told me he needed to go pee pee.  We weaved our way through the sea of blankets and folding chairs to the back of the park to the public restrooms.  The big stall was open and there were two tween girls primping in the small mirror hung over the sink.  Carter and I went into the large stall where he took care of his business.  While he was getting his pants up I decided to go as well.  Since I never get any privacy at home this was not a new thing for Carter to see and I did not think much of it until his little voice, which sounded several times louder than normal in the quietness of the room said, ‘momma you have no penis.  I have a penis.  And papa has penis too.  Papa has a big, Big, BIG penis!’  Cue the muffled laughter…

When we got together to organize the party Amy told me she had shared this story with the ladies of the women’s club during one of the times I could not make it.  (She created the women’s club earlier this year.  I wrote about it here.  It is basically an excuse for the women of her neighborhood to get together eat, drink, and hang out with no kids or husbands.  It is a lot of fun and while I am not in their neighborhood I have been invited into the fold.)  The ladies thought the story quite hilarious and were looking forward to meeting my husband.

At first I burst out laughing at this.  Then I started thinking.  All those women would be attending our Christmas party and, I am quite sure, would be giving Husband some rather curious out of the corner of their eye glances.  This made me laugh even harder.  So this all begs the question – should I tell Husband what the majority of the women at the party may be thinking as I introduce him?

Mona Lisa Smile

What is behind that Mona Lisa smile, indeed.

I decided to keep quiet, after all why risk him getting all bashful and refusing to go to the party all because of a cute potty training story about our sweet and innocent three year old?  So, sorry I did not tell you earlier honey, but at least I am telling you now.  That is, of course, if you are reading this.

About shoes

I am a blogger, a former microbiologist, a stay at home mom to a herd of two boys, and a grilled cheese sandwich and beer connoisseur.
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11 Responses to Of Potty Training and Penises

  1. Geoff says:

    Sounds like Carter is due some bonus allowance.

    • shoes says:

      Hahahaha – Considering the fact that he is three and does not yet get an allowance, I think Husband and I can be generous and at least double it. ;-)

  2. muddledmom says:

    Men love that stuff! True or not, he will be glad that anyone thinks that of him. Keep an eye out. I bet he’ll be walking taller for a while. ; )

    • shoes says:

      You may just be right on that one. I was a bit unsure how Husband would feel about this “public” announcement but he did not seem to mind. ;-)

  3. Nancy says:

    That’s too funny! Great story! I love potty training stories.

    • shoes says:

      Oh, if only I had started blogging a couple years ago – the potty training stories I would have shared. I think my mind had blocked most of it out as a natural defence mechanism so I would not have to relive the pain. Funny stories but overall not the best times. :-)

  4. Beth says:

    Laughing and shaking my head over your story. Hope none of the ladies are of the groping variety…

    • shoes says:

      LOL! Beth, I have not given that scenario any thought! Lucky for us (or is that unlucky for Husband?!?) we left the party fairly early (around 9) as the boys were WAY past their bedtime and melting down. Perhaps later in the evening, with the over consumption of merriment, groping may have occurred and I would have had to bust out my karate chop to the neck move on any ladies of the groping variety.

  5. Awkward! Or maybe proud. I’m not sure how I would feel if I were your husband – maybe both.

  6. Pingback: 7×7 = love | Piles of Laundry in the Holy Land

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