My mother tells very amusing anecdotes about my childhood, especially the bits about my precocious use of language. My favorite are the loud questions in the frozen food section of a South Dakota grocery store: “Mommy, does Jesus have a penis?” Intense thumb sucking while affirmative answer is processed. “Mommy, does Santa Claus have a penis?” That settles it. Had to cover any potential special cases to the general rule. You know.
One of her favorite stories is from just after Brother and my first briefing about reproductive biology, wherein I holler from the backyard, “Mommy, Brother is kicking me in the uterus. Make him stop!”
Well, now that someone actually is kicking me in the uterus, frequently, at totally unexpected moments, that shrill complaint seems…well…hilarious. Thinking of calling her today with this pronouncement:
Mooooooooom, someone is kicking me in my uterus. But it’s kind of cute, so don’t make it stop!