Our Little Boy is Growing Up

I have never considered myself to be very conservative when it comes to language or bodies, but being around 7-year-old boys is making me rethink that.

I’ve learned that toddler and young boys are a different breed, but in kindergarten and first grade, it seems they are really enjoying discussing their male parts.

Interestingly, Mike and I started to notice that when other boys would make jokes using slang, Mikey would just kind of sit there like he had no idea what they others were talking about.

For example, while playing a little football with family, at one point his cousin who is the same age doubled over dramatically, saying, “Nonno, you got me right in the (fill in the blank)!”

I paused, my husband shrugged, all the other adults laughed, and Mikey just looked at us, head tilted. I leaned over to my husband and asked, “Is it possible that’s the first time he’s heard that word?”

“No way. That’s impossible,” was Mike’s response.

At swim lessons, one kid covered his chest and said, “My (use your imagination) are cold!”

Mikey crinkled his nose, and I internally cringed.

Now, while we’re certainly glad our kid isn’t the one walking around saying inappropriate things, my husband and I started to worry that he’s grossly uninformed, and maybe we need to give him an education before one of his crude little friends does.

But what do we do? Give him flash cards with body parts and their matching slang words?

Mikey did the potty talk like all toddlers and young kids do, and Lord knows we let talk of bodily functions fly freely in our house, so how the boy could be such a prude is really a head-scratcher.

We felt better when, at a recent picnic with school friends where one of the boys strategically placed his hot dog and yelled, “Look guys, I have a weenie!” Mikey joined right in on the lewd gesture until a parent finally stepped in.

(I just reread that sentence and can’t believe I typed it.)

At Mikey’s recent physical at the pediatrician, the doctor had him lay on his back while she pushed around on his stomach, then told him she was just going peek under his waistband to check his testicles. Mikey looked at me, his eyebrows pinched, and I decided to take advantage of the teachable moment.

“Mikey, testicles is real word for your privates,” I told him.

He sat up and asked, “Like, my fronts?”

“Yes, your fronts.” I turned to the doctor, feeling a blush creep up. “That’s what we call his privates,” I explained to her.

“My cocomelons?” Mikey asked, finding it funny that I was getting embarrassed.

“Yes, those.” I stood up and slung my purse over my shoulder, hoping to make an exit.

“My wiener!” Mikey practically cheered as he hopped off the little cot.

“Yes, your wiener,” I replied at the same time that I tried to turtle my head into my shoulders.

Go figure… The kid is mute when the doctor tries to ask him questions about school and friends, but apparently now is the time to speak up.

I didn’t see the pediatrician scribble anything down or otherwise flag his chart, so hopefully she found the humor in the situation.

Recently, one thing that had me feeling exponentially better was chatting with his teacher during an end-of-the-year gathering, where all the boys were just plain feral and I found myself apologizing to her on behalf of all the boy moms.

“Pfft.” She batted a hand in the air. “Please, I have two of my own.”

She proceeded to tell me that her husband recently had to have a colonoscopy, and a day or so later when she passed her son’s teacher in the hallway, the woman causally noted, “Hope your husband had a good time at the butt doctor.”

Apparently her child had relayed the news to his teacher, and it was circulating the school.

Check in on your boy mom friends. We are not OK.

Holly Crocco is editor of the Putnam County Times/Press and mother of a 7-year-old boy. She can be reached at editorial@putnampresstimes.com.