Big boy, big penis

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.

And then…

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.

17 thoughts on “Big boy, big penis

  1. Ha! Ah, the minds of children. I remember a long time ago, when my now 15 year old was but a child of 4 or 5. He had just “discovered” that boys have penises, and man, he loved to share that information. We’d be in line at the grocery store, and he’s smile and flirt with the cashier, and then say, “Do you know what? I have a PENIS!”

    But the best (and yet the worst) time? We were at church, a very small, very strict, conservative church that my ex had grown up as part of. He had to go pee right before the services, and well, I had to as well. I took him back, let him go, then told him to wait while I went too.
    Of course, while I was doing my business, he peeked around the corner. Imagine, then, my utter embarrassment when he says, as loud as he can, “Wow, daddy! You have a really big penis!”

    I hushed him with a small laugh. We washed up, walked out of the restroom…to an entirely silent church. Everyone staring in our direction. My ex as red as a beet and the only one not looking towards the back of the church. We begin walking down the aisle back to our pew, and as we go in, my son turns to one of the matriarchs of the church and says, “Did you know boys have penises?”


  2. Kids are great, aren’t they? Baby C walked up to me the other day while I was getting dressed for work, pointed at my, um, member, and asked, “WHAT’S THAT???”

    I told him it was my penis, after I stopped laughing.

  3. So I guess I had the “procedure” done when I was a wee lad too… but I certainly don’t remember it.

    Thank goodness. Right choice, wrong choice… who’s to say? Having been in a sexless marriage for a long (long, long, long) time now, I guess it doesn’t really matter.

    I don’t think you need to worry about the implications. Kids (like penises,) bounce back.

    • Hi Chris! Thanks for the comment 🙂

      Wouldn’t think at 3 days you would remember. I don’t regret doing it even if it wasn’t my first choice, but I do know it can be a hot topic.

      But more importantly… I’m so sorry to hear about your sexless marriage. I can relate, even if I’m on the other side of that.

  4. If I had sons, I don’t think I could have done it. I felt your tears and your indecisiveness. One time my little girl was naked – getting ready for a bath or something at maybe 3 yrs old. She was in front of the mirror and happened to have her legs open. She looked and noticed something and I watched her. She sayssomething like Mommy, I have a hole. I just said yes, that’s your vagina. She was too young for anatomy passed that stage and luckily she was over it.

What do you think?