He noticed a blond hair growing on his finger this morning. At lunch he had told me of his experiences wiping his bottom after a profound bout of diarrhea. With the aid of a mirror, he showed me how his tiny hole could stretch to let out big poops. I told him vaginas were stretchy in a similar way. I told him if boys could give birth, maybe the babies would come out of the hole in the penis.
A few minutes later, Charlie said, "I know why you have hair. Because when the baby comes out and is cold, your hair can keep the baby warm."
Like a little fur coat? I suggested. He nodded.

We have been listening to the soundtrack from Pitch Perfect at least twice a day.
Charlie has memorized much of the script and the lyrics.
Today in the backseat, coming home from school, Charlie started singing Beca's version of Simple Minds' "Don't You Forget About Me." He sang a cappella of course.

"As you walk on by
Will you comb my hair.."

Charlie is at his first day of pre-school.

This is my first chance to try to capture Charlie is all his summer glory. 

Charlie made it clear in spring that he prefers a naturist lifestyle. He is happiest when naked, and A-OK being the only nudie among textilists. In public areas, such as the beach, I follow him with baby swim trunks in hand, mostly for show. Last week I begged him to please try on the suit, just once.

"I fine," he gently assured me. "I swim in my penis."

Most witnesses of his clothes-free behavior are accepting if not encouraging. Most of my family is appalled. 

Maine.

Far right.

Sweet Somethings

As I began to exit Charlie's daycare center, my three-year-old called to me.
"Ma, gotta say something," he whispered, holding up his arms to draw me closer.
"Have a good ice cream store."
Thank you Charlie, I said kissing his hair. Have a good day care.

Tie-Per-Shane!

This is Naked Charlie's way of telling us he has to pee. Literally, it is ChuckTalk for Diaper Change, Please.

We've been trying to convert our two-and-a-half-year-old from asking for a diaper to actually peeing in a receptacle, but we've been luckless.
Until 10 am this morning.

"TiePerShane!" Charlie called from the living room.
OK, I said, and then re-considered. "Want to try the potty with me?"
He said nothing but we skipped to the loo together. I expected him to bee-line to the changing table, but instead he squatted on the musical plastic potty.

And he went. And went. And went.

I didn't scream or anything. Which is unlike me.

I waited until Charlie was done and said, "Dad, Miles, come see something in here."
Miles and my husband rushed in, and Miles couldn't believe it.
Yay! We shouted. We told Charlie we were so proud of him for making peepee in the potty.

Charlie stood up and started to play with the potty. It sings and plays music when the lid is lifted.

I had turned off the music component last night. Our potty had remained dormant for at least nine months.
But today, in the midst of a massive snow storm, the potty collected a lot more than dust. I switched on the music. It was time to celebrate.

"He made all that? " Miles asked. "You sure he didn't add water to it? "

I had watched Charlie the whole time, I told my older son.

"Charlie," I said, so proud, "anything is yours for making peepee in the potty."

He trotted to the fridge, opened the door and whispered Pseee. So at 10 am Charlie got a half-cup of Cherry Pepsi and a bowl of whipped cream, continuing the tradition that Miles started when he was 18 months.

Piscine! Charlie said today. Pee-Seen!
I was changing his diaper. He was laughing, holding his fire hose.
Yes! Penis! I said.
Psssssssss, he said, putting out imaginary fires.

This is why I had to stop typing Miles's post tonight. History has repeated itself with mint dental floss.