Maddie calls her private parts her “bottom.” I’m not sure how this practice began. I certainly don’t talk to her about her female parts–that’s her mommy’s job. Like disciplining her, cooking for her, clothing her, and telling her “no.”
Tonight when I got home from work and walked upstairs to take over at bath time, Maddie was standing in the knee-deep water, holding a washcloth in her right hand, looking down at herself, and singing:
“Clean the bottom! Clean the bottom! How I like to clean the bottom!”
Me: Maddie, why are you singing to your…er…private…girl parts?
Maddie: My bottom?
Me: Yeah. I guess. Your bottom. Why are you signing to it while you wash?
Maddie: Because I am!
Me: I don’t think it’s appropriate–singing to your bottom.
Maddie: But I like it, Daddy.
Me: I’m sure you do. It’s just that, well, the nudity and the singing…I’m not sure it makes for good habits. Have you seen “Forrest Gump” and how Jenny made her living in Memphis?
Me: Yeah. Guess not. Forget that part about Jenny. Ready to dry off?
Maddie (resuming with the washcloth, but dancing this time): Clean the bottom! Clean my bottom! See my clean bottom!
Me: Just what I was afraid of. You’re gonna want a pole in your room for Christmas.