Private Parts!

I never thought I would use the words "brother" and "penis" together in as many sentences as I do.  Mainly:  Do not touch your brother's penis.  And, today:  Hey!  Do not put your penis on your brother's face.

There's no way this was good.

Andy's become preoccupied with his little Andy.  I try to be matter of fact about his business, and I have explained that his private parts are just that.  Private.  I've also used the word "special," on occasion.  And I have tried to hammer this into his head:  We do not show people our private, special areas.  We do not talk about them in casual conversation with strangers on the street.  We do not fiddle with them too much when our mother is looking at us.  And, sure, we may take a bath with our brother, but that does not mean that it's a free for all regarding our private, special areas.  And for God's sake, stop drinking the bath water, can't you count how many asses and genitalia are floating in this lukewarm pee water?  Too many.

Honestly, I don't know what I'm doing.  I didn't think I'd have to start having some of these conversations for another couple years, but the questions keep coming.  The odd statements pop up out of nowhere.  A couple weeks ago, he asked to see his best friend's penis.  His best friend is a girl.  I said, "Andy, J does not have a penis.  She's a girl, and her special parts are different.  And you cannot see it, because it is private, just like your penis is private."  Andy pondered this for hours.  I thought that, at least for the day, we had moved past the topic entirely.  Then, halfway through dinner, he dropped his fork onto his plate and exclaimed, "Oh no!  If J doesn't have a penis, how does she go pee pee???"  He was sincerely, horrifically worried.  I tried to reassure him that the girl parts still make pee pee, but at this point, I'm sure he thought I was just placating him, and the glare he gave me was downright untrustworthy.

He is listening to me at least a little, though.  In public bathrooms now, he has started to loudly proclaim, "I don't want anyone to see my penis!"  when I help him into the stall.  "Don't worry, Andy," I tell him, dropping a handful of cheese goldfish onto Alex's stroller tray.  I know, feeding a fourteen month in a public bathroom is probably ill-advised from a hygiene standpoint, but if you have a better way to keep Alex from screaming, I'd like to hear it.  "No one will see your penis," I assure him.  And I smile back at the other mothers who kindly smile over at me and then inconspicuously try to cover their two year old's daughters' ears.

While it's true that it may be time to get Alex out of Andy's bath in the interest of keeping up the "private parts" story, I know for a fact that Andy would not react well to that change.  I have happily noticed that the boys have really bonded, and I truly think that they understand that they are meant to function together, as a team.  As two loud, sloppy cogs in a single machine.  They know they are supposed to do things together.  Andy gets upset if we go somewhere on a Saturday morning without Alex, when Chris is home to watch over the baby's nap.  And Alex is stuck on Andy, keeping within a foot of his big brother and often closer when we are just hanging out.  Alex hugs and tackles and giggles at his big brother in an adoring, wonderful way.  And Andy is quick to introduce Alex as his brother.  "This is my brother," he tells strangers, giving Alex a rough hug and aiming him at said stranger.  "This is Alex."

Plus, maybe it's the lazy mother in me, but really?  TWO baths?  Next thing you know, you'll be telling me that they shouldn't be drinking from the same water dish and should be getting two different bottles of eye drops when they come down with pink eye.  Not that Alex has ever had pink eye.  No, that junk magically disappears from life once you stop sending a kid to day care.  Although, wow.  Considering how many times I walked into day care to find all of the kids, boys and girls, in the bathroom together (with the door wide open), maybe Andy would have a final, lasting understanding of private parts by now.  Minus, of course, the "private" part.

But I digress.  As usual.