Friday, January 18th 2013
Anatomy 301

I was on the phone with my mother yesterday and she said the word ‘scrotum.’ She doesn’t usually drop that word into conversation. But she did yesterday.  And I was all, “YES! THANK YOU. THAT IS THE WORD I WAS TRYING TO THINK OF YESTERDAY.”

“You were trying to think of the word, ‘scrotum’?'”

OH YES. And there are some things you just hesitate to ask google.


“because Caden-8yr said he had beans in his penis and there were so many things wrong with that but i couldn’t remember that word.”

Actually what happened was that Caden-8yr did the “helicopter dance” in his undies and asked what the beans in his penis were called.

I said, “WHAT? You do not have BEANS in your PENIS?”

And he said, “yeah I KNOW, Mom. But you don’t like it when i say balls or nuts.”

“OH MY GOSH. Testicles. And they’re not IN–”

He jumped and yelled about testisicle/icicles jiggling.

Ethan-12yr yelled from in his room about something ‘giggling.’

I said, “That’s NOT what he said.”

He asked what was said.

I repeated it, loud enough for him to hear in his room.

Ethan-12yr screamed. He doesn’t willingly enter conversations in which body parts may be mentioned. It was quite the accident. He really thought it was about something else entirely.

Seth-7yr decided to take pity on me, because he just found out that I do not have this exact equipment, and I must need a remedial course on this. “Ackshually Mom. They ARE in there. In the penis. Like, THEY MOVE. You don’t know that because you know, you um, you don’t call yours that, but um, like, really. They move in there. They TOTALLY do.”  He nodded his head very seriously. Slightly proud to educate me about this phenomenon. Because as a mother of three boys, OBVIOUSLY I DON’T KNOW.

“They’re not beans. They’re not in your penis. Go to bed, I am SO DONE WITH THIS.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“They do move.”

“You should really go to sleep, then.”


In hindsight, it was probably better that I could not recall the word ‘scrotum’ at that moment. I can’t see how that word would have been all that helpful.


3 Comments on “Anatomy 301”

January 18th, 2013
2:58 pm

I feel like I’m missing out having girls! We have some fun conversations, but nothing like these!

Love that you are documenting this. I think these should be printed and given to each son as a wedding gift. :)
Sarah recently posted..Two years later.

January 18th, 2013
4:32 pm

I cannot express how much y’all’s anatomy lessons. truly.

January 26th, 2013
2:45 am

“Okay. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“They _do_ move.”

I’ve been meaning to chime in on so many different posts of yours recently. Lots of heavy, serious topics you’ve been posting about, but no. This is what I comment on. The fact that I my version of Seth-7yr is Ellie-7yr, and even though we’d never have this conversation because she doesn’t have that kind of accoutrement, I can hear her saying something quite like this if the situation called for it. And I can completely hear myself extricating myself the conversation by making it very clear that sleeping should commence immediately. And that last line of Seth’s just kills me, as Ellie would say it precisely that way –because, while she’s the sweetest heart in the universe, she also REALLY likes to educate me about things she’s certain I’m unfamiliar with. And she’s very persistent. And very interested in making sure she’s been heard and believed.

Such a doll. Such a treasure. Such a non-boy.

And of course my boys, being 6 and 4, are just at the beginning of having these kinds of conversations, which I (being properly equipped) would have no problem at all joining them in, except for the fact that they always seem to begin when I’m just in the next room and they’re talking things over with their sisters.

Which naturally leads me to intervene with a dictum like “You do NOT talk to your sisters about that stuff.” But with all of them snickering and chuckling about it all … I’m afraid I let more of that go on than my inner parent thinks I should.

But it’ll probably all come out in the wash, I tell myself. You can’t obsess over absolutely everything. Body parts (and their names) included.

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