And thus went the conversation with Jadon the other day:
Jadon: Mama, I found something.
Me: (Vaguely distracted, not quite paying attention…but of course, pretending to be riveted by his every word.) Hmmm???
Jadon: I found two balls in my privates.
Me: (Now spewing Diet Cherry Coke from my left nostril and wondering why Daddy is never around for these conversations.) Ummm…let’s watch SpongeBob.
Jadon: No, I mean, I don’t know if they are supposed to be there.
Me: Yes, they are supposed to be there.
Jadon: Well, if they are supposed to be there, what are they called?
Me: (Thinking that I might be struck down my God right then and there if I tell the kid that they will fall off if he keeps talking about them OR if he “finds” them again, because we all know that “finding” them entails little hands and probably very little hand washing.) Well, they are just called “privates.” (And holy shit, kid! They are PRIVATE…that’s why we call them that, so can we just watch SpongeBob already?)
Ok, I didn’t say that last part, and I didn’t tell him they were going to fall off, but I may or may not have mentioned that Santa might not come to his house if he continues to be concerned about his private areas.
Egg nog…adding it to the grocery list right now.