Bet The Farm.

Wednesday mornings are a good time for baths. I don't leave for work until halfway through the day and neither of us is in the rapid downward spiral of hunger and crankiness like we are after a full day of work or daycare. So yesterday morning, right after his nap and a hearty helping of Apples-n-Apricots, I prepared Mister's bath. He loves baths. Takes them very seriously.

I'm pretty accustomed to humming and singing to Walker now. It felt very awkward at first but now it's second nature and I do it all the time. The thing is, though, that I don't really know any kid songs. I know one lullaby and I'm guessing by now that Walker's pretty sick of hearing "Rock-A-Bye Baby" .... especially the times where I stop in the middle, look at Walker, and say "Wait, now what comes after "on the treetop?"" So I just make up songs. And usually they're all a variation of a song I invented shortly after he was born that combines the words "Walker", "Mister", "happy", and "silly". Look, I'm not saying it's a good song, I'm just saying it's a song. Anyway. So I started humming to Walker while he was in the tub, not thinking much about it. And then I really listened to what was coming out of my mouth. I put down the facecloth, looked at Walker and said, "I just realized that I'm humming the beginning to 'I'm Turning Japanese'."

We proceeded with the bath. I started thinking about how when you're a little baby and you live in Vermont and it's winter and you live in a drafty farmhouse, you really don't have a lot of opportunities to be naked. Even baths are usually hurried along for fear that he'll get too cold and crabby. But since it was mid-morning and the bath was warm and the bathroom itself was toasty, I wanted him to take his time and then only remove him from the bath when it was clear he was over it. Just as I started thinking about this lack-of-nakedness, he looked down, his hands shot down, and that's when he became acquainted with his new best friend. "Yes, Walker", I remarked, "that is indeed your penis. Your best friend." Then, with his jagged little finger nails he dug in and I surprised myself with how sudden and severe my wincing was, "Jeez Louise, take it EASY. GENTLE." Yikes. After this bathtime meeting, he is now anxious to see his friend whenever possible. His hands shoot down whenever I barely start to take the tabs off his diaper for a change . Lordy. The love affair begins.

This discovery of his private bits reminded me of a story that we told often while I was pregnant and, if you must know, positively killed at childbirth class. We had decided that we wanted to know the sex of the baby when I had my Level 2 ultrasound. The doctor mentioned that sometimes the ultrasound isn't conclusive in regards to sex, it depends on the position of the baby and a number of other factors. At first the point was moot since Walker had his legs crossed and wouldn't cooperate. Finally, just as we were getting ready to wrap up, he allowed us a peek. And there it was, clear as day. The doctor circled the area and said, "Well usually I tell people not to count on the sex, but you can pretty much bet the farm on this one." He continued to circle and comment, "Here is the penis, here is the scrotum and here, " he stopped to laugh, "is his hand."