It Has a..........

Okay, fast forward 5 months and its now my son's 3rd Christmas. I'm not pregnant yet, but I'm due to ovulate on New Year's Eve and plan to party like its 1999... which it is. I'll regret this in September of 2000, when I'm in labor and would have had a better chance of winning the lottery than finding an available anesthesiologist in my hospital where quite the little baby boom was going on. But, when my daughter is old enough, it will be a funny story to tell her that she was conceived on the eve of the new Millennium.

Anyway, over the fall my mother had come to understand, if not accept, that my son WOULD be receiving a kitchen from Santa. Santa is not a homophobe and has nothing against chefs, so when my son requested a kitchen from Santa at the mall a few weeks earlier (prompted by his loving mommy) it was not a problem. What my mother WAS unprepared for was the baby doll he was getting from me and my husband on Christmas Eve.

Understand, I was at the time only the mommy of a boy. I had not ever once purchased a baby doll. I was a little surprised to see that 99.9% of them were pink or at least dressed in pink. I didn't have anything against the pink baby dolls per se, but when I saw this cute little one in a blue and green striped outfit it seemed right for a boy, so I purchased it. It was in a box and I wrapped it up, put it under the tree and didn't give the little ticking time bomb another thought, until.......

Its Christmas Eve and my son unwraps the doll. He likes it... not the reaction we received to the new Thomas the Tank Engine toys, but he likes it. He holds it, plays with it a bit and then decides as any 2 and 1/2 year old would, to undress it. The little blue and green striped outfit is snug and my son is having a hard time getting it off. Enter stage right, my mother. She swoops in to help my son undress the doll. Suddenly, without warning, the following ensues on my living room floor back lit by the idyllic Christmas Tree, in the slow motion version only granted to those, like me, who can occasionally see what is about to happen, but not in enough time to adequately intervene.

(As the outfit pulls across the doll's head...)

My Mother (Sputtering): "uh... uh... uh... this uh... doll... has a... a... a..."
My Son (clearly, without reservation and proud to help my mom find her words): "A PENIS!!!"

Now, to this day I'm not sure if my mother was more upset by the fact that the doll did indeed have a penis or that my son said "THE WORD". There are many things that are NEVER spoken of in my mother's presence and penises are at the top of the list. Suddenly, that damned kitchen she had given me SO much grief about was looking pretty freaking good.