Mommy words...These are words that Mommy is allowed to say but Colver is not allowed to even think about speaking, and he most certainly isn't privy to their meaning. Most Mommy words have four letters. We need this classification because Mommy isn't mature enough to find a better way of expressing herself than to cuss like a sailor...
We have never had a strict rule outlawing electronics at the dinner table. We turn of the TV and Colver isn't allowed to have his tablet, but David and I, we can have our phones. Lets call it what it is, a double standard, but we are adults and it's our house; our dinner table. SUURREELLYY, we can handle our social media addictions through dinner...Apparently not.
Our dinner time conversation is generally pretty normal and lighthearted. How was your day? Did you learn anything at school? Colver ignores us and mumbles "I don't know" You know, the usush (sp)
On the day in question, I was mindlessly scrolling through my Facebook feed, intoxicated by the blue light of my mobile god, unable to tear away long enough to eat my tacos. Like a crack addict feening, searching for my next hit, There it was...Scary Mommy...an article too funny not to share...immediately.
"Listen to this..." I enticed husband and mother, who was over for dinner.
"Ten things I would like to say to the Gyno..." I read through the list outloud, 1, 2, 3, 4...paying no mind to eager ears of my son. My mother and I laughed. David chuckled, "Those tools do resemble torture devices. Hahaha!"
"# 9, You've just tunneled to China through my vagina! Yes it hurts..." I read as we began another round of cackling (sp).
"VAGINA!!!" Colver yelled above our laughter.
We were brought back to reality mid laugh. The immediate silence was deafening. Our eyes wide with shock. Colver grinning dumbly; so proud to be "in on it." He had no clue what he just said.
"Colver, thats a mommy word!" I scolded.
"Sorry Mommy." Colver sheepishly said. He was visibly embarrassed and upset. He knew "Mommy Words" were the worst kind of word. He truly didn't know what he just yelled out the open windows in the dining room.
I felt horrible. He had never heard that word before. We taught him about his private part and what it
was called. He knew how and when to approach that topic of discussion, or lack there of. We had addressed the obvious female anatomy when I was breastfeeding (it didn't last long). That was easy. They are called boobs and they make milk for babies... We, however, had never discussed the female netheryaya. I mean he has a sister. He asked where her penis was and we explained she was a girl and girls don't have one and boys do. That had sufficed. Bullet dodged. *Parent high five*
I had made a horrible error in judgement. I never should have read the article at the dinner table. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! but there it was...VAGINA!! Hanging above the dinner table, taunting me for my poor judgement and foresight. It was awkward. None of us knew what to do. Colver embarrassed and confused. This was one of those moments as a parent where you just hang you head in shame and turn your efforts to damage control. I knew what had to be done; I had to address the vagina issue. Carpe Diem!
"Colver, I am sorry. You didn't know that word. You know how you and Daddy are boys and have a penis" Colver giggled. "Well Mommy and girls are girls and we don't have a penis. Girls have private parts too, but we have two private parts" Colver looked so confused. "We have boobs and instead of a penis Mommy and Caisley have a vagina."
Colver giggled, no longer ashamed. I could tell he understood. Yes! Success! I had successfully tackled the "vagina!" Moving on, back to our normally scheduled dinner.
Colver smiled, the smile he gets when he knows something and is about to school me. He pointed at me from across the table.
"Don't forget your mom!" he spoke proudly. Well, *sigh* he wasn't wrong.
Red in the face, we laughed outloud, all four of us.
So NEW RULE: No more social media at the dinner table...EVER! Mommy isn't mature enough to know what is appropriate dinner conversation.
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