[By Nic Lindh on Saturday, 28 October 2006]
One evening recently we were having a nice quiet dinner when Andrea asked me, “Do you have a round thing, daddy?”
“Ehm. A what?” I said, swallowing my spaghetti.
“A round thing. Like Bob.”
Bob is one of the boys at Andrea’s preschool.
“What do you mean a round thing like Bob, honey?”
Andrea rolled her eyes a little bit†. “A round thing! To pee-pee!”
“Oh.” Pause. “Oh.”
The Master Plan has been to keep the existence of the “round thing” outside Andrea’s awareness for a while longer, but since this anatomical cat was out of the bag, nothing to do but talk it through.
“How did you see Bob’s round thing?”
“When he went potty.”
“OK.”
A sigh of relief as the pervert-defcon status was downgraded.
“Do you have a round thing, daddy?”
I must admit that at this point I was searching quite hard for a graceful way out of the conversation, chewing on my spaghetti, and didn’t respond.
“Do you have a round thing, daddy?”
Seriously, toddlers are like the freaking Terminator when they want to know something.
“Yes, daddy has a round thing, too.”
A wise nod. “All boys have round things.”
“Yes, all boys have round things.”
“I don’t have a round thing.”
“No, that’s because you’re a girl.”
“Are you a boy, daddy?”
“Yes.”
“Because you have a round thing?”
“Yes, you’re a boy if you have a round thing. Only boys have round things. Now please eat your chicken nuggets.”
†Oh yeah, that bodes well for the future…