We may have come a long way in the evolutionary chain, able to walk upright and create mechanical devices to make our every day lives easier than having to conk each other over the head with clubs and kill and harvest things ourselves in order to eat them- but for some reason- men’s fascination with their own penis remains as strong as ever.
From days of cavemen to today- they all seem to think they can rule the world over those of us with vaginas because their sexual organs are on the outside of their bodies- giving them the ability to swing them around like kings, and thereby being able to smack people in the faces with them. THE POWER!!!
Ok, maybe that isn’t 100% accurate, but it certainly seems that way sometimes.
I know i’m constantly saying “I am not a man hater!”, because I write about them so often and tease about their downfalls and shortcomings (as if women don’t have them too!), but keep in mind that I have two little boys who do in fact act their ages and not their shoe sizes- and unlike with an adult- this does not work in my favor.
Two little boys, who just like the generations of men before them, have an inane fascination with their own junk. Constantly I catch them just fiddling around with it, and it always leaves me scratching my head.
Sure, it’s new to them, I can see how something hanging between your legs might be a curious thing to explore- but this continues on into adulthood (a la Al Bundy). Perhaps it’s because I don’t exactly have boobs that are enviable to others or of any astonishing size, so I can’t understand the fascination with my own body parts. Mine are something i’ve always despised, especially since having children, so I guess I could be way out of the loop and offbase.
Still, that being said, my kids obsession has moved into strange and hilariously uncomfortable territory.
The penis obsession, mixed with an unfiltered 4 year old’s mouth, combined with not being old enough to realize what he is saying or how odd it would be if he were just a few years older, has led to this blog. And to today.
Case in point:
During breakfast this lovely Friday morning, Holden starts talking about how today i’m going to be Daddy. I informed him that I have absolutely no interest in being Daddy, and very matter-of-factly motions to his nether region and he says “You’d need to grow hair on your pecker first!”
Upon seeing my horrified look, he begins to laugh hysterically. So, the penis-obsession is not only hereditary by gender, but funny. There are times as a parent you can’t help but to laugh, even though you know you shouldn’t- this was one of those times.,
Not even an hour later, I was doing my normal (and half-assed) exercise ritual to keep from becoming the dreaded roving land-beast. Each morning I do this, I try to get the boys involved, because if I don’t- I know for a FACT I will end up tripping over their asses and smashing my face into the floor. They don’t call children “ankle biters” for nothing.
One of the standard parts of this ritual is jumping-jacks, just to get the heart rate up. Holden LOVES to do jumping jacks with me, even though he looks completely fucking ridiculous doing them because he is the least coordinated person on the planet.
Instead of doing the usual “hands up, down to the side” move that I was doing, he was slapping his hands onto his thighs, and his crotch. Upon seeing my puzzled look as to WTF he was doing, he announces proudly “I’M DOING A PECKER JACK!”
Needles to say, he broke my workout stride.
Sadly, I don’t think this trend shows any signs of stopping. I doubt evolution will rid men of their outer-parts, as they are needed for procreation and the survival of the planet, and as long as they have these parts hanging between their legs, they will always be fascinated by them. We women, especially we mothers of boys, just have to learn to deal with it.
Still, I am not at ALL looking forward to the inevitable moment where I walk in on him masturbating. I could most certainly end my life happily without EVER having witnessed that.
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