Ah, summer. It actually hasn't been too bad temp-wise. So, I've been much less cranky this year (having your skin not burst into flames when you walk outside helps). Of course I still have to deal with other things, namely my ex trying the Disney-Land Daddy routine every time he visits. I usually go along with it, but this last gift gave me some pause. Here goes:
After giving out goodies, the kids open their gifts and Ethan opens up what is supposed to be a Spider-Man punch bag. You have to blow it up, but I don't have a bicycle pump. It isn't long before Dear Old Ex quietly slips away, adding: "Mommy will blow it up for you." You can imagine my joy. But, I go a head and start the long, dark road into Blowing-up-impossibly-big-toy-for-my-son. As this sucker gets bigger, I start to notice something. This thing is shaped remarkably like, well, a penis. A big, blue penis. I try not to giggle as I finish blowing it up. The bottom part is supposed to be weighted, but it wasn't. So Ethan starts throwing this thing around--a giant penile missile. My Dad notices Ethan playing with something new.
Dad: "Oh Ethan! Whatcha got there?"
Me being snarky: "A penis."
Dad: "A what?"
Ethan: "It's a PENIS!!!"
Dad raised his eyebrows at me.
Me: "Oops."
Okay, not my finest parenting moment, but sheesh. The longer I looked at it, the more it looked like my very own Asherah pole. I expected a group of Middle Eastern women to arrive at any moment to burn incense to it and bake special cakes.
Meanwhile, Ethan is happily RIDING the phallic symbol yelling, "PENIS, PENIS, PENIS!!
Dad starts to try and mend things, saying: "Ethan, is that Spider-Man? Is that your punch bag?" Me, I think it's too funny to correct.
Later that evening, my parents came over for dinner and my mother saw the pecker. By this time, Spider-Man had endured quite a bit and was looking sad. My mother, trying to be helpful said, "It needs more air." So she bent down and starting blowing up the toy. I couldn't resist.
"Mom's giving the penis a blow-job!"
Dad finally came unglued and could not stop laughing. My mom just shook her head and kept at it. "That's gross," she scolded me. True. But the set-up was there--I had to deliver. I know, I know. Elders will probably be calling me.
After giving out goodies, the kids open their gifts and Ethan opens up what is supposed to be a Spider-Man punch bag. You have to blow it up, but I don't have a bicycle pump. It isn't long before Dear Old Ex quietly slips away, adding: "Mommy will blow it up for you." You can imagine my joy. But, I go a head and start the long, dark road into Blowing-up-impossibly-big-toy-for-my-son. As this sucker gets bigger, I start to notice something. This thing is shaped remarkably like, well, a penis. A big, blue penis. I try not to giggle as I finish blowing it up. The bottom part is supposed to be weighted, but it wasn't. So Ethan starts throwing this thing around--a giant penile missile. My Dad notices Ethan playing with something new.
Dad: "Oh Ethan! Whatcha got there?"
Me being snarky: "A penis."
Dad: "A what?"
Ethan: "It's a PENIS!!!"
Dad raised his eyebrows at me.
Me: "Oops."
Okay, not my finest parenting moment, but sheesh. The longer I looked at it, the more it looked like my very own Asherah pole. I expected a group of Middle Eastern women to arrive at any moment to burn incense to it and bake special cakes.
Meanwhile, Ethan is happily RIDING the phallic symbol yelling, "PENIS, PENIS, PENIS!!
Dad starts to try and mend things, saying: "Ethan, is that Spider-Man? Is that your punch bag?" Me, I think it's too funny to correct.
Later that evening, my parents came over for dinner and my mother saw the pecker. By this time, Spider-Man had endured quite a bit and was looking sad. My mother, trying to be helpful said, "It needs more air." So she bent down and starting blowing up the toy. I couldn't resist.
"Mom's giving the penis a blow-job!"
Dad finally came unglued and could not stop laughing. My mom just shook her head and kept at it. "That's gross," she scolded me. True. But the set-up was there--I had to deliver. I know, I know. Elders will probably be calling me.
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