So last week consisted of many epic parenting fails, but there is one that sticks out plain and centre.
I made the stupid mistake of taking my two monkeys to the zoo, by myself, without any sort of play date buffer to help distract them (i.e an unglorified babysitter so I don’t have to watch them 24/7.)
We headed to The Kids favourite spot. The giraffe enclosure where an array of these beautiful creatures were eating/shitting/licking everything in sight when The Kid asked the one question every parent dreads (okay, maybe the second question.)
“Mummy, what’s that?” She asked pointing at the giraffes neither regions.
“A giraffe H.” I replied, purposely ignoring what she was really pointing at.
“No mummy. That?”
There it is. That four letter word. That. What do I say? Tell her the truth or lie through my teeth? Ummm.
“That’s a penis H.” I said wearily knowing full well where this was going.
“Yes, but what does it do?” She asked, her cute little questioning face squashed up in confusion.
“Well.” I puffed trying to regain my composure. “It doesn’t really do anything.” Well apart from the obvious of course. “Apart from weeing.” I said quickly. “That’s how they wee.”
“Like Daddy.” She said confidently, with a very proud look on her face.
Hoping that was the end of that I dragged the kids outside and we watched them being fed by the keeper.
“Mummy mummy there’s something wrong with that one.”
Panicked that one was going to die right in front of us I looked quickly. Not seeing any raging zombie giraffes or whatever I stood confused.
“Mummy what’s up with it?”
I swear to God I stared and couldn’t see anything but five giraffes with long weird tongues eating a bunch of leaves.
“That one mummy.” She pointed again, her voice rising. “That one’s penis has dropped off.”
I spat out laughing and quickly covered my mouth as the keeper scowled in my direction.
“It hasn’t fallen off H, she’s a girl giraffe.”
Complete chaos. I could see her processing it. What? No PENIS?!
“But mummy, you have a penis too don’t you?”
By this point, the mum next to me had given up and packed her kids up and hurried away. Couldn’t blame her to be honest. If I could have beamed H anywhere else, I would have.
“No baby, mummies don’t have penises remember? We have vaginas.” I replied in what I hoped was a very pleasant and patient voice.
“Oh.” She stared directly into my eyes, all sad. “Has yours dropped off too?”
Oh, come on! Please let a natural disaster hit me right now! Please.
“No H. I’ve never had a penis. Err…sorry?” I said, trying to smile but grimacing instead.
If only that was the end of it. But the darn daddy giraffe decided to use that exact second to mount the mummy one.
“Come on H. We’re going.”
“But why mummy?” She asked head turned, staring at the naughty giraffes.
“Because we are.” I muttered, half dragging half pulling her while trying to steer a buggy that suddenly didn’t want to go the same way as me.
“But mummy I want to stayyyyyy!” She screamed, kicking off the mother of all tantrums and consequently, as The Baby loves to do, starts her crocodile crying and Houdini trick, trying to get out the buggy.
Note to self: Skip the giraffe pen next time, it just ain’t worth it. Oh, and telling the truth ALL the time, to a three-year-old is a shit idea. Darn fancy assed parenting books!