It starts early:the grabbing in those pants. Little Man is not ashamed of anything. Grabs and misses for his thing. When I ask what that is good for, he says that it also needs attention. Who would he get that from?
When I talk to Husband about it, he says it's just part of the game and that I shouldn't worry. "It's his boyfriend." Aha! So there we have it:apparently they are friends. And friendship should be cherished and given attention.
‘Mamaaahaa, he is big.’
I turn Grandma's meatballs over and put the dish back in the oven. “What, honey?” “My dick.” I turn around with a start.
"You what?"
Little man stands wobbly in front of me with his hand in his pants. "Look how big it is?" I put my hands over my eyes as if I were that thing never seen before and say in shame:'Well, is this necessary?'
“Mama, can you make it smaller?” I wet a cloth with ice-cold water and place it on top. Little Man starts to scream and backs away.
"You want it to get smaller, don't you?"
"Mama, why is Papa's car bigger than yours?" I would gladly have replied that men need it, an extension of their noble lord. But I say that dads often have to carry more stuff.
Cars and men, the well-known phenomenon. There are of course a lot of cars that give men a bit of a kick, but when a big fat Lamborghini or Porsche rips by, many a man is off the map. Then they no longer need large breasts.
Little Man is not yet infected with that virus, he is especially concerned about whether he can sit in the large child seat when a friend rides along from school. So something with the biggest… What is it with men? We all know they don't feel proud when their reproductive organs are small, but does that continue in the choices of cars and gear? Does everything really have to be BIG?
Only men are allowed in the men's corner, Husband shouts proudly as Little Man dives on top of him. If men are also very good at something, it is coming up with the most strange and non-pedagogically sound rules. You can then straighten that again later.
"Mommy, you're not allowed in the men's corner. That's just for the dicks. And you don't have a dick. Mom, what do you have?'
I mumble badly that daddy's are often wrong and that mom can sit wherever she wants – whether she has a dick or not.
The toilet seats in the house are also no longer safe for the big or small gentleman. So may I clean the glasses again with a Glorix cloth before I can sit safely. Little Man saw me do it once and has been clearing his own drip ever since, but Husband is incorrigible. After his visit to the toilet, there is a splash on the toilet seat.
When we visit Grandpa, Little Man is very interested in Grandpa's genitals when Grandpa sits on the toilet. “Does Grandpa have a penis?” “I bet he does. But grandpa is sitting on the toilet for a while. Would you like to come along and have a look at the delicious cakes?'
"Is Grandpa's dick as big as mine?"
So I haven't managed to change the subject. Although I hope for Grandpa it's bigger, I don't feel the need to put a ruler next to it. Actually, I don't want to think about my father's reproductive organ at all. Too much information. In any case, he managed to reproduce himself.
Little Man is pointing in front of the display cabinet with pastries.
“Mama, look, that cake is the biggest. I want that!'
