My dinosaur's growing!

So last week, as I'm getting ready for work, I yelled downstairs to my 5-year-old son, "You okay, Honey?" He yelled back something that I mistook for, "My dinosaur's growing!" I assumed that he was just fine and continued to get dressed. Only after I got downstairs did I realize what he really said . . . "Mommy! My penis growed!"

Jesus . . . Mary . . . And Joseph . . .

Being the oldest of 4 GIRLS (my brother grew up with my dad and step-mom) I know all there is to know about boobies and bras, cycles and pads, Aqua Net and crimp irons. Heck, I even did a stint as a sex-ed teacher, educating 4th and 5th graders about the changes they can expect with puberty. "Can you believe that all these changes start in the BRAIN?!"

Anyway, I always believed I was destined to have 3 daughters. See, my mother was the oldest of 5 girls, I was the oldest of 4, so naturally I would have 3. But after my first-born daughter, a boy. Um. Whoa. Don't mistake this for crestfallen, however. My son has been an unexpected riot since birth when his big, giant melon got hung up in the pelvis. This nearly 10 pound behemoth came out of the womb carrying a kindergarten satchel. Word around my hospital room was, "He doesn't look like a newborn!"

And as he grew, he proved to me that some things are just innately 'boy.' Like, say, crash sounds. I always wondered how my male classmates made such cool crash sounds. Turns out they didn't know either, they were just born with the talent. And guns? I was the mom who judged other moms (sorry) for ignorantly allowing toy guns in their homes. Then my son started building guns out of Legos, pushing his spoon handle between the tynes of his fork and saying 'boom.' Where did this come from?! But I've grown accustomed. That is, until IT 'growed.'

See, the penis has always seemed a very odd, comical organ. One that really didn't concern me until puberty at which point I found it slightly scary. I will always remember my grandmother telling me, "I loved your grandfather with his clothes on." Turns out she thought it a little strange, too. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm pretty fond of my husband's, but I must admit, I'm not that jiggy with others.

So when Big Mac came into the world, I needed to put on the Big Girl panties and deal. Especially given the uncircumcised nature of things, my husband and I decided we'd let our son make that decision himself. The uncircumcised penis needs more cleaning then your average 'helmeted' version, but it actually helped me take a very low-key attitude toward our son's member--it's just another part of the body, like your toes, your fingers, your elbows. And I believe in calling a spade, a spade. There was/is no "wiener" talk, no "donger" dialogue, no "wanker" wagging, no "pee pee" posturing.

So how I mistook the word dinosaur for penis, I'll never know, but when I walked around the couch and saw my son half naked, his first erection standing tall, I about fell over. Craaaaap! How do I handle this one? How do I stay positive, respectful, non-shaming? Averting my gaze by focusing on the dog, I said, "Wow, that's pretty cool! Now, let's get dressed and get going!"

Of course, that failed once he started to get dressed and discovered, "It won't go down!" Um. "Give it time, Sweetheart," I said with a bit of a chuckle. Fortunately, the hustle and bustle of getting out the door helped me to evade further discussion.

Oh Lord, I feel so inept.