An untimely death

There are many adventures parents enjoy with their children -- crawling, first words, introducing new foods, going to school. But there are also some misadventures. We are currently embroiled in a misadventure with the ball of fire. He is at a loss to explain where my wee-wee has gone.

I know a flurry of questions are going through your head. Wee-wee? Gone? Did you have one to begin with?

Let me set your mind at ease. No, I have always been a girl, wee-wee-less from day one. However, explaining that to your wee-wee-obsessed toddler has proven to be a challenge.

When you have a kid, privacy is a funny word with a Y on the end. It doesn't exist. He's poking around in the bathroom no matter what I'm doing, or how many times I ask him to leave. In the course of his childhood, he's noticed that I don't stand when I pee. And in fact, there is no wee-wee to pee from. That worries him.

In the meantime, he has devised some interesting scenarios on his own on what might have happened to my errant wee-wee. Maybe it hasn't grown yet. Maybe I put it away so it wouldn't get broken. Maybe daddy keeps it in his car.

This weekend, the hubby and I were chatting about something in the hall and the ball of fire came up and grabbed him around the leg for a big hug.

"I love my daddy!"

"I know you do, sweetie. That's so nice," I replied.

"Daddy has a wee-wee, and I have a wee-wee but mommy doesn't have a wee-wee."

"Yes, mommies don't have wee-wees."

"Your wee-wee died."

Stunned silence. The hubby and I glanced at each other, careful not to laugh.

"Oh really? Why did it die?"

"Because you played with it all the time."

Holy shit.