It’s not what you think.
This story is inspired by morning wood of the totally non-sexual kind.
Rewind to six and a half years ago. I was pregnant with my son. My husband and I had a series of endless discussions on all things parenting, as all parents do. One topic was circumcision. Since I wasn’t the one in the family with a penis (literally…although figuratively may be a different story), and since I didn’t have a preference either way, I conceded the final decision to my husband.
He decided he wanted to circumcise our son.
(Okay, please don’t make this a big debate on whether to circumcise, okay? I know it’s hotly contested. I know both sides, I don’t need to be educated. If it was only up to me I wouldn’t have done it. But it wasn’t.)
So, a few days after my son’s birth (a dramatic story on its own), the three of us are in the doctor’s office. All this dude does is circumcisions. God, what a job.
I’ve been to several bris ceremonies for my Jewish friends. The wine, the Mohel, the party. So civilized.
This, on the other hand, was a depressing office in an old building. The focus of the room was a large, cold, stainless steel table with restraints. A little bit of local pain killing gel for my son. Mommy needed wine and there was none.
I got more and more emotional – my poor little baby, already traumatized by birth, strapped down on this table, tiny and helpless. It was horrible. I was sitting on a chair, quietly crying, trying not to make a fuss. My husband was by the table, comforting our son, chatting with the doctor. We are both super curious about things so at least there was conversation about the procedure, painkillers, how many procedures this doctor has done, etcetera.
The doctor removes my son’s diaper to apply the painkiller. He looks down and says:
“Wow. Big boy, big penis.”
I look up through my tears to see my husband with a massive smile in his face. He was so proud. Some joking ensued, of course. I will admit it did add some levity to the moment. He didn’t wipe that smile off his face for hours.
Of course this story was oft-repeated to close friends and family. My husband was thrilled to have progeny so well-endowed. Judged so by an expert, no less.
While I’m super-glad I have a boy and not a girl, not having boy parts sometimes hinders my ability to fully answer the questions he asks. This morning, he was sharing a whole series of observations:
- Mummy, sometimes it sticks straight out, especially when I wake up.
- Mummy, then it can spring back when I push it, see?
- Mummy, it’s not so springy right now but I touched it and look, it’s springy again!
…so of course, I couldn’t help but think of his being blessed with the “well-endowed” moniker at only 3 days of age.