Posted by: cochinblogger | July 13, 2010

A Penile Conversation between Father and Son

This is the paternal analogue of the maternal dialogue I reported earlier (see A Mammalian Conversation between Mother and Son ). One day my older boy (a couple of years ago, I think, when he was 8 years old), while urinating in the bathroom, pointed to his organ and asked me what it was called. Up to then he had been using a childish word of his own invention for it.

I must confess I behaved like a coward. Instead of telling him that it’s called the penis, I wimped out by blabbering something to the effect that there is no proper name for it.

What was I afraid of? That he would use the word in company? And if someone asked him who taught him the word, he would answer “My father did”?

It is our cowardly reactions to direct questions from children that, in the ultimate analysis, corrupt them. They sense something is wrong.

Our children, for as long as they remain children, should be allowed to remain in the garden of Eden they dwell in, where the lion and the lamb frolic together, and the uncovered body is no cause for shame. Let us not contaminate them with our guilt.

The next time I will be forthright with my son.

That time nearly came yesterday, when my son happened to refer to his organ again in the bathroom. This time, though, he had made up his own name, a truly wonderful invention for a mere 10-year-old.

What is the name he came up with, you ask? Simple.

Urinater. 🙂

[I used this very word, by the way, a few months ago in this blog (All the World’s a Urinal) to mean something else. Like father, like son.]

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