She showed me her no-penis
If you had asked me what I hoped to be doing the first time my son announced he had seen a hoo-haw, I would’ve said “cooking bacon.” Men are men around bacon. I knew there would be a time at which my boy would want to talk about girl-parts and I could only hope a good, fatty pork product would be involved.
It was catch-all night around the Mt. Otis dinner table. The son was eating soup and Jello. I was cooking up some red beans and rice with whatever was left in the fridge. I didn’t have any ham hock, but I had half a pound of bacon left. It was sizzling in the skillet with 1/3 of a white onion that was on its last legs.
“Daddy, we need to tell you about what Sophie [name changed] did today at school,” my wife said from her spot at the kitchen table. She had not mentioned it before. Obviously, this was going to be something worth hearing.
I stirred the bacon once more and noticed the bottom of the pan getting crispy with pork fat. The boy’s eyes were red from swimming and his inhibitions weary from a very long day. He didn’t hesitate.
“Sophie showed me the other side of her bottom,” the kid said. He slurped his Jello.
I deglazed the pan. I hoped the hiss of steam covered up my laughter. I pictured every woman I’ve ever seen naked (and if my wife or mother is reading, that number is, of course, one). The other side of her bottom, indeed.
If the four and a half year-old kid eating red gelatin had actually said what he’d told my wife on the way home from the gym, I would not have been able to contain myself. In the car my boy had proudly announced, “Sophie showed me her no-penis.”
I mean, holy hell. I’ve been working with words since I was eight years old. I’ve written about just about every kind of woman, naughty, nice, and naughty (yeah, I know I said it twice). I know nearly every euphemism for a woman’s netherparts. Not once have I come up with something as brilliant as “no-penis.”
If the story I heard is true (and at this point, I have no reason to believe it was not) young Sophie flashed her no-penis during some sort of 4-K ritual known as “carpet time.” I let every possible joke go by and put on my most serious face. There are times one has to be an adult, and this was one of–
I’m going to be an adult about this. I really am. We’re going to make sure Sophie’s mom knows her daughter is making an early run at the pole. This was as innocent as could be, but probably something that needs to be addressed. We’ll make sure the teachers are keeping an eye on the kids and that carpet time stays as G-rated as possible. Yes, I’ll be an adult about this.
As soon as I stop laughing.