Gates Can be Such Nuisances

I have nothing really new to write about today, so I thought I'd dip into the archives of my brain and tell and cute (?!)

Beckett story. A few months back, Beckett and I were sitting on the couch pontificating on the meaning of life and existence in general. Okay, we were watching Diego, but that's really the same thing, isn't it? I look over, and Beckett has pulled his penis out of his shorts, and is flicking it with his finger. Now, I consider myself a hip parent who doesn't want to impose Puritanical strictures on appropriateness and wants her kids to feel comfortable with and unashamed of their bodies. I also don't want my boys to play penis jockey in the family room when the neighbors come over for dinner. Ah, the tight ropes we walk! So, I calmly, without judgment, tell Beckett that's it's fine to play with his penis, but it's something he should do in his bedroom, not on the couch. And not with me sitting next to him. (If the house fires and tornadoes weren't enough, just imagine what this will do to the kid!). He stops and looks over at me. "Mama," he asks, "can you open the gate so I can go to my room and play with my penis?" I'll just leave it at that.

I'm not sure if I adequately hid my hysterics that came from that question. (oh, and if you're wondering, his room isn't shielded by some gitmo-style security gate. there's just a baby gate in the hallway to keep Kyler in the living spaces and out of the bedrooms.)