There's a boy in da' house

I've shared with a couple of friends how my dear son, my 5-year-old MacDaddy, has not only grown increasingly more aware of his own manhood, but how Mommy's body is sooooo much different from his. Remember a couple of months ago when he announced his first "chubby"? Yeah, I found it disturbing, too. And now he's starting to notice other things, which is...awkward.

Let me set the tone: My parents divorced when I was 5 and my sister and I moved out with our mom. Then she remarried a year later and Mom and Dad slowly grew our family from 4 to 6, me at the helm of their 4-daughter brood. So you see, I come from very female-oriented stock. In fact, my mother is the oldest of 5 girls. We talk boobies and bras and periods and bloating.

"Balls?"

"The ones you throw or bounce?"

"Boy balls? What the hell are those?"

Being the oldest child, and rather naive, I hadn't a clue about the 'junk' hidden in the pants of my male classmates. And really, even after college, singledom, and marriage, I still wasn't too concerned about the average, everyday bidness in the boxers. I even spent 2 years teaching sex education! Explaining the life of a sperm! Pretty uninteresting stuff for me, considering I was destined to have 3 daughters--Mom: oldest of 5, Me: of 4, Moira: 3, right?

But that Destiny, that willy minx, she just laughed. I had my beautiful Moira and then 3 years later, Maclane (and we ain't talkin' Shirley). I had birthed me a BOY. How the hell did that happen?! Was I disappointed? Not in the least, it just seemed soooo far from anything I'd imagined. I'd have been less surprised if Moira had ended up big sister to a baby chihuahua.

Suddenly we had to decide whether or not to circumcise--we chose NOT with the promise to pay for the procedure when he could choose for himself--and as he grew older, we had to decide whether or not to cut his gorgeous locks--we chose the scissors, sorry but I find long-haired little boys oddly creepy, not cute (Big Apple Housewife Alex may want to take note).

Anyway, we have continued to live the way we always have, nakedness is nothing big at our place and body parts are just parts. But lately . . . I'm unfortunately growing more aware of where and in front of whom I change my clothes because Maclane has taken to staring at a vicinity between my shoulders and belly button. I've tried to reason with him, "Dude, stop staring! These fed you when you were a baby!" To which he responds, "Ewwwwwww!" And then laughs. He thinks it's funny to shove them, like they're a couple of pillows that got in his way. Quite nervy, he is.

I'm troubled, though. Here he is, all of 5 and in his budding awareness of the differences between boys and girls, is a little disrespectful of the boobies. And yet he doesn't know he's being disrespectful, he's just being a kid, laughing at the jiggles and the wiggles. This is so weird! My sisters and I made fun of each others' flat butts, generous thighs, and crap perms. But our boobies? They were just there, like our elbows, and while there is a funny bone located in the region, I seldom found elbows particularly entertaining.

I don't want to be all paranoid and crazy and I don't want to raise my kids to feel weird about their temples. So if anyone's out there, anyone at all? Riddle me this: How can I continue to honor the body while maintaining an air of fun and nonsense? I'm up for any advice.