Anatomically IN-Correct

There are certain conversations you just never picture having with your kids until the moment that you actually have them. Luckily, we aren't having the "where do babies come from" talk for a good long while, but Jake and I are already arguing about who has (I mean "gets") to have that convo. These days, the questions revolve around body parts. In the last year, I've probably answered thousands of Ella's "wizzat?"("what's that?") questions. But lately, her "wizzats??" have been directed at certain anatomical features, forcing me to choose one of three options: 1). Shoot straight. Use the big words: The vagina and the penis (why did it feel weird to even type that?). 2. Use some slang. You know, the Va-Jay Jay and Mr. Wiggy (sounds like a porn gone horribly wrong). Or 3. I could pretend like I don't see what she's pointing to. "Wizzat Mommy??" {staring off into the opposite direction} "What's what? I don't see anything?"

Suffice it to say, #3 didn't pan out. Oh, but we are obsessed with body parts in this house. We have naked dance parties after bath-time (and by we, I mean those of us that are under 3 feet tall). Ella has, in fact, discovered that her little brother has something she doesn't. And her natural reaction, initially, was to want it too. The first time I explained to her that this little part that looked really cool and different belonged to him and only him and that no, she couldn't take it (more importantly, it's, um, attached) and that no, she couldn't grow one for herself, there was an all out crumple-to-the-floor meltdown about wanting her own "peanut." She begged for a peanut for a solid 20 minutes.

This is definitely one for the baby book.

{Cue Ella's first date in 14 years}: "Hi Ella's date ______, nice to meet you. Ya'll have fun at the movies. Oh Bug, you know what I was just thinking about earlier today...? Remember that time when you were helping mommy bathe Milo and you started crying because you wanted your own peanut? Gosh, you were so cute."


I. Can't. Wait.