One more thing she’ll hate me for

Recently, Zoë has been getting a lot of hygiene lessons from us. Personal hygiene lessons. You know, wiping thoroughly, front-to-back, washing carefully kinds of things. Mostly from me because, well, BJ does not have first-hand experience with the female undercarriage. In our household, we don't use any code words or kiddie names for anatomy. We believe in calling a body part by its appropriate name. You wouldn't teach a little tot to call their arm a "waggly thing" – that would be silly. We're just the liberal, hippie type that figure using the anatomical names kind of "neutralizes" the parts, I guess. They are neither good nor bad, they just are. Like your arm. So, Zoë knows what her vulva and vagina are and where they are located. There – got both the "v" words out in one sentence. Part of these lessons are the traditional "good-touch, bad-touch" and "private v. public" tidbits. But, I found myself having to reiterate the "private" point this evening. You see, Zoë made up a song. It goes like this:

"Vagina! Vagina!

Vagina, vagina, vagina!

Who likes their vagina?

Vagina! Vagina!"

Seriously – do all 3-year-olds make up songs about their body parts? Because she is not the first kid I've heard that does this. Anyway, I felt it necessary to ask her if this was a song she should sing just at home or everywhere. She informed me it was just for mommy and daddy, "and maybe the doctor." Because, you know, we're all about our kids being comfortable with their bodies but aren't really thrilled with the prospect of her preschool teacher asking us about such a delightful little ditty. Or her sharing it with the rest of the check-out line at Target.