I swear, if it’s not all about the poop in my house, then it’s all about the penis. Even with the gender ratio being split right down the middle, the focus still seems to be primarily on the shlong. Between my husband and my son, it’s a serious toss-up as to whose johnson receives the most human interaction on any given day. I suppose it’s a real life gear shift for the male species, and they want to hold on to it for dear life. My son, however, hasn’t had as long of a relationship with his little member, so it’s a whole world of discovery for him. Every day is like an on-going show and tell, and his “peeper” never fails to make multiple appearances throughout a twenty-four hour period of time.
Without fail, one such appearance tends to always take place on the crapper. My son cannot ever seem to sit on the toilet to take a dump without poking and pulling and plucking the pecker. I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t already had to experience the pain of chafing with all the tugging that poor thing has had to endure. I have actually cringed on more than one occasion just watching him torture that pitiful little peter. And lately, he’s come up with even newer and even better little “skills” it can perform while sitting on the pot. For instance, he loves to make it “dance” by flinging it around in a circle like it’s a freaking lump of silly putty or something. He’s also decided that he can make it look like a “bobblehead” by bouncing up and down on the toilet seat until it begins to wobble. I gotta say that the kid certainly deserves some credit, though, cause out of all the comparisons I’ve ever heard over the years, I’ve never once heard a penis being associated with a bobblehead figure. (Why do I have the feeling that some of my male readers have suddenly taken a break from this post to test out their own bobblehead abilities?)
Another nightly ritual that my son has instituted lately involves stripping down buck naked and running around the family room at full speed. He runs lap after lap after lap around the furniture, all while clutching his johnson as if it’s going to fly right off his body and be eaten by the dog (which, actually, is not a far-off possibility now that I think about it). My daughter seems to find this naked display of calisthenics highly entertaining cause she laughs and squeals and claps throughout the whole five minute work out. I don’t know about you, but exercising in the nude is something I’ve never really even thought about doing. Perhaps it helps your endurance and flexibility to not be confined by such things as clothing?
I guess I should be grateful that the trouser snake only comes out to play in the privacy of our home. I suppose it could always be worse. If I start to get phone calls from school telling me that the genie’s been let out of the bottle on the playground, well then we certainly have a problem, don’t we? If grown men are any sort of proof at all, then it looks like my son and his penis are on the road to a long and beautiful friendship together.