Small Fry just turned three.
There comes a time in every parent's career that s/he experiences a moment of mildly delusional self-confidence, when s/he thinks to him or herself, "Self, I think we're in the clear now. We've had a few scares, but god willing I think we might maybe just make it through the rest of this alright."
On Small Fry's third birthday, I had my moment: I stood back and reflected on my years of experience parenting my two "interesting", "inquisitive" and "energetic" offspring, and for a single brief and shining moment I truly believed that nothing could surprise me anymore.
Until Small Fry announced, "My penis is up in the mornings!"
Thankfully, DH was also present at the time. So while I struggled to recall whether one could self-administer CPR, he just nodded sagely and told Small Fry, "Yep. That happens a lot. Hey, what shirt do you want to wear today?"
DH is never calm. NEVER. How could he calmly suggest that this was a normal occurrence for a three-year-old? For my three-year-old? What do you even call that? Morning twig? It's just... just... wrong!
And then it hit me, like fifteen chest compressions, or maybe a shock from an AED: the penis is a life long affliction. It makes a power grab early on in life and before you can say NARB it's running the whole damn show. Its authority over its subject is absolute! Why, it's a regular dicktator! Even when it eventually quits working, it is mighty in its absence: the now-leaderless male doesn't revel in his newfound emancipation, but instead goes to great lengths to reinstate the beast, no matter how tyrannical a master it was! Oh, the irony!
Ho. Ly. Shit. I have such a better understanding of men now! Sure, we ladies have those pesky hormone fluctuations and we get all "week three" sometimes, and other times all "week two" or "week one", or even occasionally a little "week four", but that's peanuts compared to how bad men have it! It's like the difference between having a mildly annoying backseat driver gently suggesting ways in which you may wish to safely operate your vehicle, and being bound and gagged in the trunk while a horny megalomaniac joyrides around in your car. For your entire life. With pants over his head.
Golly, that sounds downright dangerous! I wonder if Bill 16 is going to help out with that at all?