so.. i was speechless.

okay, and before i go any further, i’d like to say that the contest to rename The Boy is still ongoing, so for this post, he shall retain his former moniker.

yesterday found bryan having to go to lee for the duration of a workday, so The Boy and i were home alone. if it were up to him, it would’ve been spent playing gamecube, but we all know how sarah, the eeeeevil stepmother, feels about video games. so i came up with other things.

we had our little tiff early, which even a rookie super-nanny viewer would be able to decipher as him “tesing my limits”, so i stood my ground. i didn’t even resort to restricting gamecube playing.. he was going to be lucky to do any of that anyhow, so why even bring it up? i just said, “you can spend the day in your bedroom, if you care to continue this. it makes no difference to me.” and we were done.

as we sat at the table, peeling and eating “lemontimes” (known to the rest of the english speaking world as “clemontines”), i asked him, “so, what do you do for fun? you know, on the weekends, at your mom’s house?”

he shook his head. “nothing. i play video games.”

okay, well, no shock there. “what do you when the weather’s nice?”

“i’m not allowed to go outside,” he said. “i have a play fort in the backyard, but my mom won’t let me play on it.” um, okay. done.

“get your shoes on,” i said. “we’re going outside.”

and as he was getting dressed, i noticed something.. odd. his hands were constantly grabbing.. at.. you know.. his area. i asked if he needed to go to the bathroom, he said no, and i told him, “well, i really shouldn’t have asked, cause it’s not an option. GO.”

he came out, and we wandered over to the big park, with his hand constantly grazing his crotch. i tried to ignore it, because lord knows what i need is for him to go home and tell his momma that we were examining his special place. the big park was too muddy, so we walked back to the park next door to the house. we played tag, catch, and other games for a good two-and-a-half hours. when we headed back to the house, he looked like a five year old SHOULD look.. ruddy faced, short of breath, and covered from head to toe in grass and mud stains. (i should mention that i also carried this look off marvelously well.)

he laid down for a mere ten minute nap, which was fine with me. we watched some cartoons, dined on pretzels, and basically took it easy for the rest of the day. bryan came home that night, and all hands left the groin region immediately. so, i figured, it was just a thing.. and i decided to let it go.

after dinner, as we all became engrossed in the first harry potter on tv, bryan got up to cut an apple for a bedtime snack. while he was gone, The Boy looked at me and said, “look, i’m pinching my penis!”

i. had. nothing. “um.. so yeah.. don’t do that,” was all i could muster. i was both taken aback by the subject matter, and by his frank use of technical terminology.

“i can touch my private parts,” he informed me. “we can all touch our private parts.”

and, again.. NOTHING. i just stared at him. i don’t disagree with him, but i really didn’t want to get into a philosophical and life-altering discussion about my feelings concerning “private parts”. AND, the bottom line again was, anything that i said from that point out would immediately be parroted back to the REAL mom.

he ran off to the bathroom or somewhere else, and i went to bryan, wide-eyed and frightened. “i don’t know what to say to that!” i whispered harshly.

“I DON’T EITHER,” he said. “he doesn’t DO that around me.”

so, yes, i understand it’s part of self-discovery.. but how can we kindly make it plainly clear that that’s behavior best reserved for his mother’s house?