My son has a weird relationship with his erection.
I imagine this is not unique among 4-year-olds. At this age, all children are grappling with their ever-expanding mental capabilities while struggling to understand the world they live in AND the sack of meat and bones that their consciousness is forever trapped inside. Every day is a chance for Arthur to learn something new.
In reality, each day is a chance for all of us to learn something new, but most of us jaded adults have been exposed to this funny little drama called planet earth for long enough that we simply take for granted all the small details. Not children, though. They absorb everything because it’s all new to them:
The cat makes funny noises when I pull its tail. Daddy’s farts smell worse than mommy’s farts. My boogers are fun to pick and don’t taste that bad. My penis stands at attention at random times throughout the day.
It’s that last one that is most fun to observe as an adult, because we’re all aware of our sexual organs and the constant pain/drama/humor they provide us on a daily basis. Arthur, on the other hand, doesn’t know an erection from an Erector Set. The physical act of his penis becoming engorged with blood and pointing outward like a small, fleshy fishing pole is greeted with constant surprise on his part.
Often he ignores it, or keeps his thoughts on the subject to himself. But there are times when he’ll come strolling into the room, naked from the waist down with his penis thrust firmly into the air like it’s giving a Nazi salute.
“My penis is going straight again!” he exclaimed to me one morning last week as he walked into the kitchen while I was preparing sandwiches for everyone’s lunches.
“Going straight” is Arthur’s preferred nomenclature for describing his erections, and its cuteness has yet to get old. It’s amusing to note that children begin describing their junk through slang at an early age. A quick poll of some friends yielded similar language among boys, from “getting big” to “boingy.”
The terminology was not limited strictly to males, as one friend noted that his 3-year-old daughter refers to her bits and pieces as her “puna,” as in “Dad, my puna itches, can you put baby powder on it?” or “Dad, the dog jumped on my lap and scratched my puna.”
Arthur often greets his erections with confusion and concern, since he doesn’t understand why they occur or how they can be controlled. Such was the case last week when I was making lunches.
As it would be, Arthur was massaging his penis and testicles like a stress ball, so I calmly explained that he had a boner, and it was primarily caused by the continued kneading of his twig and berries.
It came out more like, “Arthur, you have an erection because you keep rubbing your penis. Quit touching it, and go sit down at the dining room table for breakfast.”
I served him a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats and went back into the kitchen to finish lunch. When I poked my head back into the dining room to see if he was finished, Arthur had gotten down from his seat and was looking up at me proudly.
“Daddy,” he said. “My penis is no longer straight. I made it go down with my Penis Going Down powers!”
Did I mention he’s into superheroes? No? Well, I shouldn’t have to. He’s four. He’s likes superheroes, but he doesn’t quite get what constitutes a reasonable super power and a bat-shit crazy one.
“That’s great,” I responded, trying to hide a smile. “Why don’t you go into the bathroom and use your Going Potty powers.”
“YEAH,” he said with extra flourish as he made his way toward the bathroom. “Those are my second favorite POWERS!”
Kids can be so awesome sometimes. It almost makes up for all the crap they put us through.
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