Lately we have been having all of our important conversations through the baby.
D: Hey buddy. Do you want a baby brother?
D: (thinking that perhaps he has just made a gender error) A baby sister?
K: Buddy, since Mom took an antibiotic that has the half-life the same as, say, uranium, Dad's penis won't be coming anywhere near Mom's Vahh-GIII-na anytime soon.
Oh, that's what I said. Vahh-GIIII-na. I let the "gi" hang in the back of my throat and then roll off my tongue just like my niece does. My niece realized that she could say the word "vagina" and it would have the fabulous effect of making everyone slightly nervous but no one would ever tell her not to say it because who wants to be responsible for contributing to the cultural dysfunction that will descend on its own by junior high?
D: Why do you have to say that?
K: What do you want me to say? Do you want me to refer to it by the anatomically correct term of "woo-woo?" How about "cooch?"
D: Why do you have to do it?
Just to bug you. See button, will push.