I almost called this “Shit My Kids Say” or “Shit I Say to My Kids,” but I can’t ever remember enough of what happens after it happens for that to be very meaningful.
Today, I actually uttered the statement, “Aidan, please remove the rocks from your underwear.” And later, “Aidan, please take your face out of Sean’s butt.” Sean was wearing his diaper AND pants, I swear.
Aidan says (with great frequency), “Mommy, I have a weeeeeeener.” Which is usually followed up with, “Mommy, do you have a weeeeeeener?” (He adds the emphasis, by the way.)
And I have no idea if being obsessed with one’s penis is normal for a 5 year old boy. If the men I know are any indication, it’s probably normal when they’re 35, too. I just want to raise relatively well-adjusted boys into relatively well-adjusted men. And lately, it seems like I’m doing it on my own. So of course, I worry about screwing them up more so than every parent screws up their kids.
But, on the bright side (because there is ALWAYS a bright side), I seem to be letting go of my need to control every situation. Anyone with children knows that as a parent you have NO control. I still make plans, and back-up plans, and back-up plans for the back-up plans, but I’m slowing learning to let go…a little. And just roll with it. They aren’t giving me any choice.