Fat Mogul vs. My Son’s Weiner

2013-09-21 09.30.05How’s that for an eye-catching blog post title?

But the truth of the matter is, my son is quickly nearing three years old, and I’m already afraid of his penis…or, more correctly, his awareness of the thing.  You see, my son has rather recently become incredibly aware of his ability to get laughs by saying and doing completely absurd things.  He loves making completely stupid faces during photos, he will make up really stupid dances to go along with gibberish-laden songs, and he will just flat out tackle another child if he believes someone will see it and realize the pure genius that is his understanding of absurdist humor.

But if his pants (and diaper) are off…all of that humor seems to really rely on the fact that he has a penis.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  Every time he starts shaking his hips and singing “I have a weiner” repeatedly, I find it absolutely hilarious.  His ode to his own genitals is this sort of bragging/surprised excitement about the fact that he has a tail where his sister has none.  The fact that he created this dance to cause the most amount of movement his can get out of his insubstantial (I mean, huge…yeah, huge) junk, well, it reminds me a lot of my high school days in group showers where it was commonplace for the more attention-needy to make others uncomfortable by doing…well, pretty much exactly that.

But he’s 2…and he’s already become aware of the humor that can be involved in the fact that he has a miniature elephant’s trunk between his legs.

Sure, he’s also aware of the funny that can be brought on with a butt.  Farts and random moonings occur quite regularly, but with not nearly the amount of energy that his weiner dance can really bring on.

And, don’t think this is the only attention he likes to bring to his weiner.  He also likes to attempt to begin a game of naked chase by yelling “No you get my weiner!”

Of course…with that in mind, perhaps this really is just all about the fact that he loves being male.  With the fact that he’s still in diapers most of the time (we’re right on that precipice of figuring out how to hold waste in), he really isn’t aware of the thing all that often.  For those of you who don’t have children, diapers have the tendency of making that area rather Ken-doll like…strapping everything in tightly so nothing can escape.  I do think that half of the excitement that occurs when the pants come off is due purely on the fact that he’s suddenly reminded that he has boy bits.

And…I can’t help but worry about the fact that he’s figured out the use of “dick jokes” so early on in life, well, not exactly that, but that his version of the artform involves exposure of the subject like some sort of miniature flasher.

Of course, if I could get myself to just stop laughing at it for a minute or two, perhaps he’d lose interest.  But that’s going to be hard.  Because it’s damned funny.

Also…please don’t ask me about my son’s penis.  The fact that I wrote this post is weird enough.  The fact that you’re reading it is, well, just a little bit creepy.  Any further attention to the subject is bordering on complete inappropriateness.

Also, have fun out there 🙂


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