What is it about little boys and their parts? We call it their "junk". Anatomically correct vocab? In my opinion, YES. Beside the point. My 2 year-old is obsessed with his junk. He loves it. Loves to pull on it, push on it, move it side to side, and rub it. Why? No really. WHY??? My oldest never did this so this is new to me. But D seems to be nothing short of mesmerized by his junk. He has no idea what to do with it but sure spends most of his day getting to know it and trying to figure it out. Really. He loves to make it stand up and then sit back down- over and over. Control issue? Does he get this from me? I love nothing more than to be in control. We're recently potty trained. Since we've ditched the diaper he has a new found freedom. Freedom to filter through his junk. Loves to lay around and watch Dora while getting to know his new friend. This disturbs me on multiple levels. No habla espanol. Will this stop? Will it ever end? I know the answer.
He does it in public. He does it in private. I've tried to tell him that he has to explore his junk in his bedroom, but he's two. He doesn't see the issue.
Yesterday we went to the State Fair. Standing in the cattle barn before the steer show he decides that his junk needs some attention. At first it was subtle - not noticed at all by anyone other than me. But then.... then it became noticed by all. Full out hands down pants. Just junkin' it up. Shirt untucked, belt unfastened, junk up and out. What the hell? He thinks it's okay. Why isn't it okay with mommy? It's SO NOT OKAY with mommy. He's my baby. He's two.
Which brings me to my next point.
All we ever hear about as little girls is to stay away. The junk yard is a dangerous place. A school-aged girl wouldn't go near a junk yard if it was the last place on earth. Deathly afraid. As teenagers we have the unrelenting need to actually see the junk yard. Why? Because we've been told for so long to KEEP OUT. And it's fun at first, right? Sneaking around the yard. Trying to decide if it's just that. Junk. Or an actual treasure trove? One woman's trash is another woman's treasure. Then we figure it out. Some offer much better trashy treasures than others.
Men have been prepping the yards since they were toddlers. While seven-year-old little girls are running away screaming, little boys are checking out other yards. Sizing them up. Seeing what everyone else's junk is all about. How big is Joey's yard? What's wrong with Billy's junk? Why does Sam have a tarp covering his junk yard? Where's my tarp? By the time they're teens the lock is off and the gates are open. Junk all laid out everywhere for anyone to rummage through. They might as well put up a neon sign. Open for business. Adult men have a guard dog at the yard. He's big and fierce. The dog's name? Ego. Ego is surely man's best friend. And Ego is really good at guarding the yard. He barks. And he barks loudly. Ego scares most adult women away. The more junk in the yard, the bigger the dog, er, Ego.
My D has a guard dog. A poodle. Of course named Ego. D's Ego is just an annoying little yapper that's let him think that he's gonna mess in the yard despite what mommy says. Who cares how many times she pulls my hands away or tells me to go to my room. Ego will protect me. Ego will bite her. Mamma's about to take that poodle to the pound. Let's wait till we're a little older honey. You're not responsible enough for a dog yet.
The The only difference between D and adult men? Adult men are suave about their junk. They've evolved and adapted. Most of them, anyway. They know how to be Junky McJunkerson in public without drawing attention to themselves. They know how to lure women in and make them like it. Not my D. He's proud of what he's got and he wants everyone to know about it. Whether you like it or not. Whether you want to be there or not. I've got a feeling that as soon as the poodle's out of the picture we'll graduate to a doberman. Why? Because D will have the lock off and the gates open in the next year if he keeps his pace up.
As I'm sitting here typing I look to my right. D's sitting on the couch next to me. In his jommies. Guess what he's doing? Guess what he's watching?
**Originally written 8/2010 by Rebecca**