This weekend has introduced a new chapter in our lives parenting a little boy. Recently, within the past few weeks, poo-poo jokes have become the rage. I mean, they are funny as hell to a little three-year-old boy who just loves to say “poo-poo.” Every joke has to do with fecal matter and I’ll be damned if that just doesn’t send the little guy into belly laughs galore.

But lately TheMonk’s boy-ness has grown to new levels. For example, just yesterday, the boy took his oversized Dora baseball bat, positioned it at groin-level and shouted, “Look at my penis!” Of course, this was followed by hysterical laughing that all but drowned out the stern talking to given to him by his parents.

Later that night, as we were tucking our little ones into bed, Mommy leaned over to give TheMonk a kiss while he lay in his bed. TheMonk took this opportunity to pull up the tail of his stuffed monkey and pretend that the monkey was farting in his Mommy’s face.

Then, today, TheMonk walks up to me, turns around and begins rubbing his little butt on my leg while laughing out loud.

Lovely Wife and I began talking about our little potty mouth and I was quick to blame the little hoodlums he hangs out with at daycare. Which little punk is putting this kind of filth in my kid’s mind? Whose parent am I going to have to corner and let them know all of their penis talk has not been appreciated in this household.

And then I had a thought.

What if it’s MY kid that’s been doing all the penis talk at daycare? What if the scenes I described above are being played out in households throughout my community and that I will be the one confronted by an angry mob of parents who want to stick it to the Dad of the kid who likes to talk about male appendages, breaking wind and rubbing what his mama gave him against people’s legs.

Hmmmmmmm. Maybe I’ll have Lovely Wife take him to daycare tomorrow.