Sunday, 3 May 2015


Hot on the heels of the 'too much information too soon' nocturnal emissions discussion that went on over breakfast recently (see blog post Glory), my six-year-old son decided on an ‘interesting’ bedtime chat last night:

"Why don't I have big muscles, Mummy?"
"Well, you're a little boy. You don't really get big muscles until you're grown up."
"Well, after puberty."
"What's puberty?"
"Well, when you're a teenager, you'll start to get a bit more hairy. You'll need to start shaving because you'll get a bristly chin, and you'll grow hairs under your arms, on your chest, and around your willy. And it's only then that you might get big muscles."

I took a moment to compose myself. I needed to - he hadn't finished.

"What ARE testicles?"
"Er...well they're like little pouches of skin."
"And they look like little balls?"
"I've thought of a way I can see my testicles better!"
"Oh yes? How will you do that?"

Song is Joe Chopper & The Swinging 7 Soul Band - Soul Pusher

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