Too Much Penis Information

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“Dad!” Conor calls from the other room.

“What?”

“Do you care about Mom’s vagina?”

Confused? Shocked? Revolted? Me too, and he’s my kid.

I struggle with what to say next. “Intimately!” is the best I can come up with.

Some background. First of all, somewhere along the line Conor lost his “shame” gene. Or he never had it. He will walk into any room at any time, naked as the day he was born. He’s 13 and looks like he’s 16. This is not easy for anyone else in the house. Mychal will frequently say something like, “Will you put that thing away, I can’t see the TV!” Mary El and I just try to maintain strict eye-contact with our wayward, nude boy. We don’t want to ask and we ain’t gonna tell.

Mary El is definitely the more affected of us two. She talks a good game, but she’s modest by nature. Plus, as she is want to say, she is surrounded by penis and testicle having BOYS all the time. When Conor was a baby he used to give his Mommy what he called “movie star kisses” that were as long and passionate as a three-year-old can muster. If he tried that today Mary El would have to press charges, then shower continuously for three days. Our little “Naughty Man” is becoming a naughty man!

Thank God I don’t have girls. At the first sign of secondary sexual characteristics, I would have brought them to the nearest convent and asked that they be kept in perpetual prayer in a locked basement until they were in menopause. Forget about being one of those Dads who scare off boyfriends, I’d be one of those Dads who calls the SWAT team if you’re five minutes late bringing my precious angel home. I don’t have any Mafia connections, but I’m half Italian. I can find some. Got it punk? And pull your pants up, you’re going out in public with my girl. Did you give me a dirty look? I didn’t think so…

Yeah, God made the right decision with the boys thing.

But in spite of their differences in modesty, Mary El and Conor have one of those close, almost spooky relationships where they think the same thoughts sometimes and can communicate without speaking. Mychal and I (who share an Italian soul) will be barking at each other about some silliness as we are want to do, and Conor and Mary El will be in quiet hysterics watching us and carrying on a two way conversation of smiles and nods that is basically saying, “Can you believe these two schmoes?”

Mary El is Conor’s go to person for emotional support. He can, and very readily will, say anything to her. Sometimes too much. Sometimes WAAAAYYYY too much. He still thinks the term “Nocturnal Emission” is the funniest thing that has ever been spoken out loud in English. He’ll talk to her about the girls he likes, and how he has “zero game” in his own estimation (just wait…) He coined the phrase “retarded monster” which refers specifically to a class photo a few years back where Conor was standing in the back row next to the girl he liked at the time. There is space for another child between them, and Conor’s shoulders are up around his ears. Now, being a “retarded monster” is any socially uncomfortable thing he ever does. It’s like teen poetry.

Let me say right now that I am not the least bit jealous of this relationship my son and wife share. Here’s a specific example why I’m not, which led to the aforementioned cringe-worthy exchange:

Conor walks into Mary El and says he has to show her something he’s worried about. On his penis.

He didn’t go to me. See why I’m not jealous?

After Mary El forces the frightened, panicked look out of her eyes, she says something along the lines of, “Shouldn’t you go to someone who actually HAS a penis?”

“No, I want to show YOU.”

“I never had to care for my penis. I’ve only had to care about my vagina.”

“Mom, no one cares about your vagina anymore.” (See? He’ll say anything!)

“Yes they do!” Mary El is strangely offended.

“No, they don’t.”

“Your Dad does.” Why, oh why did she have to bring me into this?

“Dad…!”

In the end, the second choice that is me had to weigh in on Conor’s malformed member, much as a hired forensic scientist testifies as an “expert” for the prosecution. “Mr. Petti, what qualifies you to render an opinion in this case?” “Well, I would say my 44 years of Penis-Having speaks for itself.”

So after being forced to defend the “careability” of my wife’s privates, I had to have an up-close-and-personal-encounter with my son’s private. Ain’t fatherhood grand? But I’m not going to get into the intimate details of how this encounter transpired…

Ha! You thought you were going to get off the hook that easy? You’re in for the full Monty, boys and girls, just like I was! Welcome to my world. Ready for it? Are you sure?

He had a pimple.

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  1. God, there’s nothing I like more than A Brian Petti Overshare!

  2. im not gonna comment on all the over-sharing thats happening here, but i must say the type relationship your wife and son seem to have is something i want for myself and my son … sans all the showing

    • It is pretty cool, uncensored. From the correct distance.

    • theresa petti butler galimi
    • April 12th, 2013

    OMG, hysterical. Love it. I hope the boys love it as much when they read it sometime. Write on Brian…..

    • Anonymous
    • April 12th, 2013

    Funny as always! Your household is always full of surprises.

    • Anonymous
    • April 12th, 2013

    That anonymous comment was left by…….. [drum roll, please]……
    Kae!

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