things i learned in a restroom stall: part 3

privates, butt, penis, balls... wiener even.
he WON'T stop talking about them. my son, not my husband, though i am sure he is equally as proud of his manhood. completely sure in fact. in his college glory days especially. hence all the awesome anatomically incorrect terminology that N has learned

but my son. my teeny tiny little man. he is FOUR.
he is obsessed and i am freaked the hell out.
i am waiting for a random call from his school (desperately hoping it will be them and not protective services or something) because what kind of kid references his privates 700 times a day?!?!
"look at me mom- i'm touching my privates."
"mom- am i not supposed to talk about penises?"
"sorry i bumped my balls into you!"
STOP THE MADNESS.
for real kid.
stop. it.
stop it or i won't delete this post when you're older and there will be an arsenal full of embarrassing info for your 16 year-old girlfriend.
stop it or i'll make you start staying home from preschool so you can't freak out your teachers.
stop it or i'll be forced to squirt you with a water bottle every time you mention your member (let's pretend i wouldn't enjoy that last one).

i think it is a stage. i am fairly certain that other mothers have stressed about their child saying stuff like this and it being misconstrued. and i am sure that i have made it worse by trying to stifle his comments.

but most of all, i know he has learned that he can push my buttons... i just wish he would wash his hands first.

Things I Learned in a Restroom Stall: Part 1
Things I Learned in a Restroom Stall: Part 2

camping saves lives

sometimes playdate teaches you a thing or two.
usually it has something to do with how the maximum volume for a given household can increase six thousand-fold within seconds of playmate arrival or how best buddies can fight just as ruthlessly as siblings. but today it was actually something helpful. the boys constructed a "tent"in the living room.
tents are fun.
good times.
that is, until you must return blankets to their storage places dog hair and preschool-snot laden or launder the whole mess. but no matter.
tents are fun.
good times.
and also crazy good babysitters. because little A has been sitting silently alone in the tent for the last 25 minutes while the boys run rampant... noisily, possibly violently around the house.
tents are safe.
good times.