My children are in that phase where all words referring to bodily functions and private parts are hilarious. I call it the Beavis and Butthead phase, and I’m eagerly awaiting its passing. However, I’m not holding my breath, as it appears my husband never actually outgrew that phase himself. So, with that in mind, we were trying to think of names for our new puppy. I was throwing out the more traditional names like Max and Charlie when J, my 7yo said, “Let’s name him Gary or Phil.”
Okay, not where I was going, but a name nonetheless.
I replied, “How about Copper or Cinnamon?”
R, my 4yo daughter: “I have a great idea, how about Cinnamon Toast Weiner?”
All: Ha ha ha, lots of laughs.
OK, game on.
J: “How about Tushie-Face?”
R: “Hee hee, good one.”
Minutes went by and R came running across the park screaming for all the other families to hear, “Listen listen, we should name our dog Vagina.”
J: “Yeah, yeah, we’d be like, ‘Come hear Vagina. Sit Vagina.’”
I was making every attempt NOT to give this discussion too much attention, but the attention we were getting from the other families wondering why my boy is practicing calling a vagina was making me moderately uncomfortable.
“Could we keep this conversation down just a little bit?” I said, then went on to suggest more realistic names.
I know I’m a party pooper. (Hee Hee…I wrote pooper.)
I’ll tell you who isn’t a party pooper, my husband.
Hubby: “I know – we should name it Penis, and then when people say, ‘Jake what are you doing?’ you could say, ‘Oh, I’m just playing with my Penis.’”
Mind you this is a concept a 7yr old would not come up with on his own volition, but it didn’t take long for him to catch on.
J: “Yeah…Hey hey hey, listen. I could say ‘I just taught my Penis to fetch.’”
All, but me: HEHEHEHE HAW HEW HAW HAHA – and tear filled laughter. (I held mine in as the family nearest to us moved their stuff about 20ft. away.)
R: “That’s not fair, ‘cause I don’t have a penis, I have a hiney.”
Taking R’s penchant for the word vagina into consideration, I decide this was the wrong time for an anatomy lesson.
My husband finally aware of the wrong turn this conversation had taken, reeled it in by suggesting a name we could really use: Butt Munch. (Ah, the ever popular with the pre-teen 1980’s set, Butt Munch.)
This idea sparked tons of laughter and affirmation. First of all, my children had never been exposed to this term, so they found a special joy in both it’s profanity and it’s originality. Yes, they beamed with pride, as if their father, king of the potty mouths, had just coined it. Secondly, they liked the way it just rolled so easily off of their tongues. “Butt Munch. Come here Butt Munch. Sit Butt Munch. Bad Butt Munch.”
R: At the top of her lungs, “J you’re a Butt Munch.”
J: “No R, you’re a Butt Munch.”
Me: “No Daddy’s a Butt Munch.
Thanks Mark!
Mark: “Please, they could be saying much worse.”
Me: “Perhaps you should teach it to them. Jake doesn’t know mother f@cker maybe you could remedy that right here at the park.”
So, for the last two weeks J has told everyone willing to listen that R wanted to name our new dog Vagina, and R now uses Butt Munch as a verb, noun, and adjective, sometimes in the same sentence. My friend Susan asked her if she was ready to go home the other day and she replied, “No way, Butt Munch.”
I’m so proud.
PS We brought our dog home a couple of days ago, and though R is still calling him Butt Munch, we as a family went with the more traditional, Ass Face. I hope she comes around.
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