Anatomy vs. Monotony

Overheard at Home

I’m in the midst of a monotonous day of mothering when my middle child runs into the living room. 

“Mom,” Everett hollers, his finger pointing behind him. His little sister trails, toddling from the scattered blocks in her bedroom toward the adjoining bathroom. Her little hands tug at her light pink leggings, the fabric gathering near her toes. “Potty time,” she whispers, as if it’s a secret she’s trying to hide.

I leap from the couch, letting half folded laundry fall to the floor. Then I scoop my daughter into my arms and swiftly settle her onto the toilet seat. “Yay, Savannah!” I cheer, my voice an octave higher than usual, amazed at her potty training prowess at only twenty months of age.

“Mom!” my son yells again, this time louder than before. I turn my attention to his incredulous expression and raise my eyebrows in alarm. “What is it, Ev?” I ask.

“Savannah!” he shrieks, gesturing wildly at his sister perched on the toilet seat. “It’s Savannah,” he repeats, his brown eyes open wide. 

“I know,” I smile, “she’s going pee on the potty!” I clap my hands, applauding my daughter for her success and my son for his subsequent enthusiasm. He shakes his head vigorously in reply. 

“No,” he continues, rather emphatically for a four year old. I tilt my head and squint my eyes, still unsure of what he’s trying to say. Then with perfect enunciation, he shouts to my surprise, “Her penis...Savannah chopped off her penis!”

And just like that, the monotony is interrupted. 

This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Overheard at Home".