Circumcision humor: Daddy, there's something coming out of my penis

Daddy, there's something coming out of my penis

My son Jack, 3, woke me up at 6am and announced very solemnly: "Daddy, did you know I've got something coming out of my penis?"

You've got WHAT?" I said, sitting bolt upright in bed.

"I've got something coming out of my penis. Look," he said, thrusting out his todger for me to inspect.

As my wife Katherine will attest, I am not usually particularly alert at 6am. I generally work nights, and go to bed sometime between 2am and 3am. Thus, at 6am I am usually not even half-way through my nightly quota of shut-eye and Katherine normally forbids Jack from waking me up by making too much noise.

Alas, though, Katherine is away on a study trip and there is no bouncer on our bedroom door to prevent a wide-awake toddler from making me wide awake too, as happened the other morning.

I suspect the "Daddy, did you know I have something coming out of my penis?" question will do the trick every time.
Panic. Confusion. Bewilderment. All I could think of was, uh-oh, this was an emergency. Must respond. Must be cool. Must be calm. Must call the doctor.
What could possibly be coming out of his penis? Blood? Pus? What?

"See, daddy," said Jack, pulling his foreskin back and forwards. "There's something else in there, see."

I have to tell you: I have never been so relieved looking at a male playing with his member before in my life.

"It IS your penis," I told Jack, drawing breath again. "That's called your foreskin. It's supposed to work like that, you silly billy."

At this stage, I think I dozed back to sleep and plunged into dreamland again.

Passing on circumcision was quite a difficult decision for Katherine and me.
In my day, just about every Australian male was circumcised soon after birth. It was not very fair. No sooner had you arrived in this world in one piece, someone cut one of the pieces off.

Nowadays, I guess, there are more uncut little boys than cut ones. It is still an emotionally-charged debate though.

On the Yes side, supporters claim it is better for good health and cleanliness, it looks better and Abraham circumcised Isaac according to the Old Testament so it must be what God wants.

Many of the No supporters, me included, could not care less what God thinks, question the sense of removing a part of a baby's body without good cause, worry about inflicting unnecessary pain on a baby and seriously question the thought processes of people who want their baby boys to look just like daddy naked.

Katherine and I got the baby talk out of our systems before Jack started to talk. Thus, Jack says penis instead of my favourite, todger. He also knows that boys and men have penises and girls and women have vaginas - though he still calls them 'ginas, which isn't a bad thing because once or twice in public he has asked quite loudly, "Mummy, has that lady got a 'gina?" I hope very dearly that nobody else understood what he was asking.

The drawback of being a circumcised daddy with an uncircumcised son is that I am very nervous about instructing him how to keep his penis clean. I don't really know how far to retract his foreskin because, well, I've never had one of my own, well except for an hour or two.

I do not think this is a problem for Katherine, who is normally in charge of the bulk of bath duties. She has obviously never had a penile foreskin either but, it's a bloke thing, isn't it: it is easy for a guy to imagine how much it would hurt if you stretched the foreskin back too far.

I think my dream had reached this painful point, just as I was awakened by a full body slam to the head.

If there is one thing worse than being woken up by a little boy who says he has something coming out of his penis, it is a full body slam to the head by a little boy, inspired by the circus I had taken him to the day before. He had slipped while trying to do a handstand, sans pyjama bottoms, on the bed head.

"Sorry, daddy," he apologised.

"Jack, what are you doing?" I barked.

"I'm doing tricks," he said.

(This explanation only works for three-year-olds. Grown men who get caught with no pants generally cannot get away with the explanation; "I'm only doing tricks, Mr Plod.")

The circus certainly had a big impact on Jack. He did not like it at first. It was very loud and full-on, but he warmed up when the juggler came on and was captivated by the aerial acrobats and trapeze artists. By intermission, he was applauding as loudly as everyone else.
At intermission, I took him outside and paid $2 for him to have a go on a jumping castle.
Wrong move. I spent the next 10 minutes putting my hands together for him while I watched in mock awe.
"Clap, daddy," he shouted every time he jumped more than 1cm high.

Maybe that is why he woke me up so rudely. He just wanted me to clap.

"You have to kiss my head better now; you've hurt it," I said.

And he did, which was very good of him because I don't think my hair at that time of the morning is particularly fragrant.

Two days later, however, Jack got his own back.

When I strapped him in the car after picking him up from his child-care centre, he held an index finger up to me and said: "Look, daddy."

"Oh dear, I said, assuming he had hurt the finger. I immediately bent over and kissed it better.

Wrong move again.

"That came from my nose, daddy," said Jack, grinning broadly.

Come back soon Katherine, come back.

NB: I called this site Dunno because I kept drawing a blank when I had to put a name to it