Naming Genitalia

Argh! I've been terrible about updating lately with no real excuse other than general summer malaise. Much has happened. Judy's 90th birthday in Wisconsin, a mini Schwehn-camp weekend in the Dells, forays to the wading pool with Gak and Ampa, etc., etc. You have been quite the trooper, I have to say, and I've been enormously proud of the way you've embraced so many different family members. It was especially fun to watch you and Kaarn hang out together in Judy's yard. You followed your Auntie everywhere, overwhelmed with adoration after she showed you how to pick (and eat) the tart green apples from the apple tree and how to swing on the big girl swing hung from the maple on the other side of the lawn. You were thrilled to receive your first manicure and still occasionally point to your toes and say: "Red. Kaarn."

Your main development continues to be language. At least one new word every day, it seems, and old words lined up side by side to express real, live thoughts. Our favorite combo so far occurred while you and Dada were on a walk through the grasslands. You discovered a dead reptile in the weeds and thoughtfully remarked, "Snake. Bad. Bible." We choose to interpret this word string as the thoughts of an individual attempting to make ethical judgments about daily life (Daddy) or attempting to connect the an individual narrative with a mythic narrative (me). That it could also be the sign of a budding evangelical preacher is not a consideration upon which we love to dwell.

Along with all the delights of language come the challenges of language. I have been thinking a lot about Adam lately, about the challenges he must have faced in naming all those creatures, trying to find the sound or sounds to convey fur or feather, bulk or bone, cuddly or carnivore. And so Dada and I find ourselves faced with the trickiest of all naming ceremonies: child genitalia.

Really, vagina sucks. Vagina sounds like a spice rub for pork. Penis is no better, really, it sounds like a word you'd hear in passing at a lacrosse tournament. Actually, I'm sure it generally is. Anyway, parenting books are big these days on how VERY important it is for parents to create a shame-free environment for children to come to understand and embrace their own sexuality. This is why I nod encouragingly but avert my eyes when you caress yourself during diaper changes and say thing like "is the dolphin exploring?" when you let its bottle nose do some special sniffing around during bath time. As a writer, then, I feel this particular stress about finding a term for your netherparts that will convey a sense of intimacy without sounding like the name of a clown or a poodle. This is more difficult than it sounds.

Hoo-Ha? Va-jay-jay? Poo-tang?

Pee-pee? Wee-nee? Ding-dong?

I've thought about more abstract terminology like "special place" or "private parts" but I don't like using phrases that could also be used to describe secluded gazebos or Superfund sites. I also feel weird calling your vagina by a different name like "Samantha" or "Cristina."

But far worse than all these is the fact that right now when you reach down to pat your vagina during diaper changes, you simply call it your "butt." Your vagina is not your butt, Thisbe, and the only time later in life that you may confuse the two is when you're trying to give birth. At that moment, it might feel that you are pushing a head through your ass. Until, then, I want to give you a word or a phrase that is intimate but also conveys at least a sliver of self respect. I want you to love and respect your own body and I want to give you the confidence to expect others to do the same.

(So, um, for the first time in this blog's history, I would like to ask for help from the peanut gallery. Anyone found phrases or words that seem to fit these bizarre criteria? Help and sarcasm would both be appreciated. Comments, please!!!)