Girlie Bits


“Having a two-year-old is kind of like having a blender, but you don’t have a top for it.” – Jerry Seinfeld

There are times when I wear my vasectomy scars proudly. When I see a bubbly little girl jogging around the kitchen while giggling, I think about how cute she is and, for a moment, I wonder if I’m missing out on one of Nature’s finest blessings. Then, she stops, puts on a miner’s expression, begins digging at her girlie bits and attempts to appease her horrified parents.

“I’m not itching my va-gin-a.”

This is when I realize my testicles are best left disconnected because I’m certainly unqualified to respond in a proper way.

“No? So, what exactly are you doing?”


“Go wash your hands.”


“Because … OH MY GOD. Stop smelling your hand.”

“It’s not dirty, daddy.”

“Look, we talked about this. If your va-gin-a itches, you must excuse yourself to the bathroom and scratch it in there, so nobody can see.”


“Because it’s not polite.”

“What if I scratch it through my chonies?”

“No, honey. Not when people can see you.”

“I can use a wooden spoon.”

“No. Sweetie, please make Daddy happy and go do that in the bathroom. When you are done, wash your hands.”

“But, you scratch your va-gin-a.”

“Daddies don’t have va-gin-as.”


“No. Daddy has a penis.”

“Is it itchy?”

“Honey, I don’t scratch my penis, but if I needed to, I would excuse myself to the bathroom, close the door, scratch it there, and then wash my hands.”

“Why? Is your penis dirty?”

“Can’t believe I’m having this conversation with a child. No, sweetie.”


“Fine. Look, baby, it doesn’t matter. Anything that is itchy below your belly button needs to be scratched in private. That’s why they’re called privates.”

“What if my toe itches?”

“Right. Let’s say above the knee and below the belly button. If it needs attention, do it in the bathroom, alone, and then wash your hands, whether the area is clean or not.”

“OK, Daddy. Now my va-gin-a itches, so I’m going to the bathroom to scratch my va-gin-a.”

“And, I forgot to mention this but you should not announce what you are going to do; you should just excuse yourself, and go do it.”

“My hiney itches now.”

“Is your hiney between your belly button and your knee?”

“Daddy, why is Grandma laughing at you?”

“Honey, take your fist out of your butt and concentrate. Is your hiney in the area where you should only touch it in private?”

“I’m not sure. I can’t see it.”

“It is.”

“I’m going to check in the mirror.”

“Check the mirror in the bathroom, and wash your hands when you are done.”

“I saw Mommy checking her hiney in the mirror.”

“Thank god. Your turn, honey.”

Any daughter of mine would certainly torture me with unanswerable questions:

  • Where do brown babies come from?
  • Why can’t I have a cookie? You have a cookie.
  • How come Symon keeps sniffing Syd’s butt, and making funny faces?
  • If I’m a girl, why don’t I have boobie bumps?
  • Is your daddy a hairy monkey?

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About the author

Author of humorous essays about relationships and lifestyles.