Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Pants on the ground

When I found out G was a boy, I was more than a little terrified.  Excited, to be sure, but also highly anxious.  I mean, what was I supposed to do with the penis?  From my limited understanding of the male gender, I knew those things have a life of their own.

Once G was born, I realized that he was simply a sweet little different, really, from N when she was an infant.  I felt the same with M.

It wasn't too much past the boys' infancy for me to once again be confounded by the whole penis thing.

M went through an fairly intense penis-playing phase some time ago, but that eventually passed.

About a month ago, G had a foreskin infection, which freaked me out, mostly because my brain instantly went into, "I don't want him to have to be circumcised at this age."  He can retract a bit, so the doctor said for G to retract as much as he could and for me to apply a tiny bit of steroid cream to reduce the inflammation.  Dr. B gave G an antibiotic, and things cleared up just fine.  Apparently, these infections are fairly common among little boys G's age.

Ever since, G has been very, very interested on "pulling his skin," as he calls it.  One morning after he woke me at his usual 6:30 a.m., I left him on the couch watching tv while I walked into the kitchen to fix my coffee and check my email.  I walked back to the couch to check on him and found him with his pants at his knees and him busily "pulling his skin."  I just turned and walked back into the kitchen because that is a party to which I do not want to be invited.

The boys have nekkid time on a somewhat regular basis.  I will be cooking dinner or cleaning and see G streak by.  Soon after M will come in saying "Pants!" or "Shirt" and want my help removing his gear so he too can run around in the buff.  Both Mamaw and Nana (and even my neighbor HC) have gotten pretty used to having the door opened for them and being welcomed into our home by boy parts in their glory.

Like jumping on the bed and the Wiggles, eventually kids lose interest in these things.  If it's not hurting anyone, why make an argument out of it?  Plus, what would I have to write about if it weren't for my kids' antics?

Tonight G came out of the boys' shared bedroom and when I went in to settle them down and tuck them in, I found that M had taken off his pajama bottoms, a feat of which I didn't think him capable.  I may have to resort to the onesie over the pajama thing again if this continues.

I think the only solution for "pulling the skin" is duct-taped hands.  

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