After the birth of my son I was in completely uncharted territory. There was the initial circumcision and then the re-circumcision (bet you didn't even know that existed, right?) a year later. And lately it's been his obsession with his..er...junk that is supposedly completely normal in a 4-year-old boy, but makes me feel like I'm taking a very small deviant to the playground.
Most recently Jack started peeing standing up, which apparently is a really cool thing when you're 4-years-old. And right around the same time he's developed an abhorrence for underwear. Please let the record show that I do force him to wear underwear during the day, but at night I'm tired and he puts his own pajamas on. As a result, he's usually going to bed commando.
Anyways, it turns out that all of these things, all of these experiences have been leading me to one inevitable moment in my life. It's been chilly around here the past couple of nights so we've broken out the warm pajamas for the kids, you know the ones that zip.
Do you see where this is all going now?
Jack did his typical Jedi-mind-wake-up move this morning and told me that he wanted breakfast, but first he had to go to the potty. I fell back into a dreamy sleep for a minute or two, but as soon as I heard the howl of pain I knew exactly what had happened. We had our very own There's Something About Mary moment. Jack had zipped his junk.
I jumped out of bed and unzipped it, and so far, I've spent the rest of the morning explaining why we can't put a band-aid on his junk.
Damn puppy dog tails.