Two years ago, when life was a little simpler…
I was cleaning the kitchen when ONE interrupted to negotiate an early snack. She was making head-way on her plight for sugar when TWO interrupted to rue, “MY A-GINA HURTS!”
We turned and found a distraught TWO grabbing her a-gina, tears rolling down her face. She’d mentioned a little a-ginal discomfort the day before so I thought perhaps she was cultivating a UTI.
ME: How’d you hurt your vagina, TWO?
TWO: Well, I hurt-a-my-a-gina when…(insert a string of words that sounded Korean.)
ME (to ONE): Did you catch that?
ONE (taking charge): Did you run your vagina into the door, TWO?
ONE: Did you hit it with a Barbie?
ONE: Did you punch it like this?
ME: Wait! There will be no punching of the vaginas in this…
ONE punched her (own) vagina. They both cried.
I carried the injured parties upstairs for an impromptu a-gina soaking in the bathtub. I pumped TWO up for the amount of time she was about to spend on the training potty. We’re not “potty-training” her at this point, but she pees on the potty when she’s jonsing for some sugary reward treats. Anyway, if she had a UTI, I wanted to catch some of the urine to bring in for testing.
TWO was less than thrilled. She doesn’t care for the “baby potty.” ONE, understanding her plight, brought in some books to help pass the time. They sat across from each other and shared stories while ONE casually inspected her sister.
ONE: Mama! I know what the problem is!
ME: Oh yeah?
ONE: YES. TWO has a hole in her vagina.
TWO: OH NO! I have a hole in my a-gina?
ONE: I’m afraid so.
ME: Relax, guys. So do you, ONE. All girls do.
This led to more bodily interrogations, though I declined the invitation to join. During the pre-bath brouhaha, TWO peed on the potty and didn’t have any reaction other than joy, so I figured it probably wasn’t a UTI. But I decided to keep the pee for a day or so, just in case.
They climbed into the tub and played for a few minutes.
TWO (sighing): Ohhhhhh…
ME: How’s the ol’ vagina feeling?
TWO: He’s sad.
I could feel the laughter creeping up my ribs. I closed my eyes and pretended I was washing dishes so it wouldn’t escape.
ME (in a whisper): Why’s HE sad?
TWO: Because he’s no good.
ONE: Don’t worry, I’ll figure out what’s wrong with him. Mama? Can you help me put these on?
She handed me a pair of goggles.
ME: Where did these come from?
ONE: Well, I wanted to wear them under the water so I could figure out what’s wrong with TWO’s vagina.
TWO: Me too! I wanna see too!
They did their best to close the case, but in the end were thwarted by the wiles of sneaky nether regions that didn’t hurt for the rest of the weekend. Guess there’s some merit to what they say down at the station. You just can’t trust a male a-gina.
(Which reminds me, I should probably take that pee out of the fridge before I forget it’s there and it spills on some ridiculously overpriced organic produce…)
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