I have an item in my new "Daily Diary" (Wow, those words are very similar. Coincidence?)... that says "blog about something." So here I am, blogging.
This Diary, incidentally, is something that my brother suggested. He's a very organized kinda guy. Unlike me in that way. In fact, in the conversation with him about it, I got a little creeped out at how his energy started rising as he spoke about it, and I started to cringe at the thought of making lists of things and crossing them off. "I'm not a 'list' kind of guy," I told myself. Then I realized that I use lists all the time at work now, of my own accord, and it's really simplified my life. Sign of getting older, I guess. So anyway, my wife bought me the same book my brother has. She's all in favor of it, incidentally. And now, day one, I'm crossing an item off the list.
The book is a very boring-looking book BTW -- I really need to spice it up with a creative cover or something. Wait. Let me write that down...
I just crossed another item off, too. Selling an item on craigslist. Hopefully it will more than pay for the Diary. $30 seemed awfully steep.
But none of this is what I wanted to blog about. I wanted to blog about my daughter, Mia. She's six.
I sent her to the bathroom to pee last night, and then brush her teeth. I walked in on her to prepare the toothbrush and stuff. She was standing there in front of the toilet, saying "Papa, I want to pee this way."
I said "but Mia, girls don't do that. Girls sit down to pee."
"Because my weenis is little?" (side note: my son, Tucker, who's also six, made up the word "weenis")
"Well, sort of. Actually, it's called a 'penis', not a 'weenis,' and boys have one that goes out. Girls don't have penises -- their parts go in."
"Mine goes in?"
"Yup"
"You parts go out like Tucker?"
"Yup"
"Mama parts go in like me?"
"Yup. Mama sits down to pee, too."
"Oh, OK." (insert tinkling sound)
Notice how I cleverly (and narrowly) avoided the word "vagina." Not a bad word, but if you knew my daughter you'd understand why I don't want that particular word in her arsenal just yet.
I also couldn't help but recall the times I've stood in the bathroom line at concerts or ball games and watched grown women standing there at the urinal (because they were fed up with the long lines at the womens' bathroom). That'll surely be my girl some day.
This Diary, incidentally, is something that my brother suggested. He's a very organized kinda guy. Unlike me in that way. In fact, in the conversation with him about it, I got a little creeped out at how his energy started rising as he spoke about it, and I started to cringe at the thought of making lists of things and crossing them off. "I'm not a 'list' kind of guy," I told myself. Then I realized that I use lists all the time at work now, of my own accord, and it's really simplified my life. Sign of getting older, I guess. So anyway, my wife bought me the same book my brother has. She's all in favor of it, incidentally. And now, day one, I'm crossing an item off the list.
The book is a very boring-looking book BTW -- I really need to spice it up with a creative cover or something. Wait. Let me write that down...
I just crossed another item off, too. Selling an item on craigslist. Hopefully it will more than pay for the Diary. $30 seemed awfully steep.
But none of this is what I wanted to blog about. I wanted to blog about my daughter, Mia. She's six.
I sent her to the bathroom to pee last night, and then brush her teeth. I walked in on her to prepare the toothbrush and stuff. She was standing there in front of the toilet, saying "Papa, I want to pee this way."
I said "but Mia, girls don't do that. Girls sit down to pee."
"Because my weenis is little?" (side note: my son, Tucker, who's also six, made up the word "weenis")
"Well, sort of. Actually, it's called a 'penis', not a 'weenis,' and boys have one that goes out. Girls don't have penises -- their parts go in."
"Mine goes in?"
"Yup"
"You parts go out like Tucker?"
"Yup"
"Mama parts go in like me?"
"Yup. Mama sits down to pee, too."
"Oh, OK." (insert tinkling sound)
Notice how I cleverly (and narrowly) avoided the word "vagina." Not a bad word, but if you knew my daughter you'd understand why I don't want that particular word in her arsenal just yet.
I also couldn't help but recall the times I've stood in the bathroom line at concerts or ball games and watched grown women standing there at the urinal (because they were fed up with the long lines at the womens' bathroom). That'll surely be my girl some day.