Puppetry of the Peewee Penis

Friday, March 18, 2011

I don't have a penis. I asked for one for Hanukkah when I was very little but my parents got me a Nintendo instead. It was something to play with.

Having a little boy has been quite an educational experience. I've seen a weiner or two in my life (I babysat...) yet have been repeatedly surprised by my little one's winkie. First, I expected the occasional tinkle on the changing table, but nobody warned me that the peepee comes out the weewee at high speeds, goes long distances, and points in all directions. I look away for a split second, and next thing I know, I feel the warm trickle of urine on my hands, or, more likely, find my little bambini with wee on his head, shoulders, knees, and toes.

Second, when I wipe him off during diaper changes, or clean him in the bath, or push back the little skin (who knew I would have to do this to prevent reattached skin?!), he looks me in the eyes and smiles. Every time. Doesn't he know I'm his mother?! Baby oedipus complex? I'm freaked out!

Baby boners. Enough said.

Finally, I want to know that my boy will be well endowed. At his bris (ritual circumcision), I jokingly asked the mohel (guy who performs the snip) if Ari had a big pecker, and, without a chuckle, he calmly answered, "it's average." Average doesn't cut it (pun intended) for a 6ft 2 white Jewish boy with red curly hair and no rhythm. Here's hoping for some girth, I mean, growth!

I love Sarah Silverman.  A short silly video on today's subject:


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