Gender studies... Tot Style

At some point in every parent's life, (s)he is faced with the name game. Little Suzi or Tommy discovers her/his girl/boy parts and Mommy (or Daddy.... ok, I'm sick of being multi-gendered already in this post) has to decide what to call them. It seems like a simple thing. After all, why not just call them by their proper, anatomical names. I'll tell you why, because Suzi/Tommy will use these words freely (read: loudly) everywhere you go and having your two-and-a-half-year-old announcing to all of Target that her "gina is itchy" is, at best, awkward for whatever parent is pushing the cart.

My children really aren't old enough to truly appreciate their girl/boy parts, but my daughter has already learned the proper names for all her parts. How you ask? Where does every girl learn about the important things in life? Her girlfriends. That's right, my not-even-three-year-old daughter has a posse of other not-quite-three-year-old-girls and they, apparently, chit-chat about these things. Gender studies tot-style is mostly about look-what-you've-got and who else "matches" your parts. I'm not quite sure I was prepared for my toddler to come home and, while Rhianna watched me put on my bra she informed me that Sage's mommy has boobies too. Oh, and that she (Rhianna) has boobies but Owen doesn't. Now, don't get the wrong idea, Rhianna hasn't seen Sage's mommy naked, but she does know that, like Rhianna, Sage and her mommy are girls and therefore booby carriers.

Rhianna also learned the word "gina" (pronounced like vagina, just without the va) though we've tried to wean that out of her. Not because I disapprove of her using the word, but because she doesn't understand that her gina is only a part of her bottom. And it's more than a little disturbing to hear "my poopies are stuck in my gina." Enough said.

On the other side of the spectrum, we have Owen. Owen doesn't yet have (m)any useful, let alone anatomically correct, words. His vocabulary is, so far, limited to "no," "up," "uh-oh" and "e-i-e-i-o" (yes, I know, if he can sing e-i-e-i-o, you'd think he would communicate more essential things such as "hungry" or "hurt" but I guess it just doesn't work that way). Nonetheless, Owen has started what I understand will be a lifetime activity of exploring his man parts. Now, I understand that this is just part of self-discovery and though I've come to terms with some of my baby-penis insecurity, the organ is still unfamiliar and awkward to me. His daddy assures me he won't hurt himself but seriously, the way he pulls on that thing concerns me at times. I find myself needing a word. As opposed to "don't bite your sister" I ought to be able to say "don't tug your penis." However, that's awkward. I really don't like pee-pee though. It's just too... baby-talk-y for me. So I've so far resorted to pronouns or pure avoidance such as "gentle with that" -- like it's a porcelain doll. "That" doesn't seem quite right either, but at the moment, "that" is my penis crutch. I'm sure the day when Rhianna asks what it is will come and either I'll have to come up with a name I'm happy with or she'll draw a diagram and SHE will tell ME all the appropriate names for the junk.

That's all for today.