Words

A few weeks ago, I wrote of Katherine's wish to be a fireman when she grows up. She continues to talk about her career and each time I encourage her to refer to herself as a firefighter. She continues to tell me that she will be a fireman. So far, I do not have a feminist on my hands.

As part of teaching the girls to be proud of themselves as the girls they are and the woman they will become, we are working hard to teach them all the appropriate names for body parts. We have sugar coated nothing. Each body part has been labeled with it's anatomically correct name from the time the girls were infants. As I have blushed and stammered at times, I have been proud that the girls will have sexually healthy identities.

In the bathtub the other day, Katherine was busy washing herself. "I'm washing my arms. I'm washing my legs. I'm washing my potty."

I took a deep breath and said, "Oh, you mean you're washing your ___ (insert anatomically correct name here- I don't want my blog to come up when people google the term!)?"

"Yes," she replied, "I'm washing my potty."

The child has created her own euphemisms for body parts.

And it appears that I am raising a potty washing fireman. So much for all my hard work...