Allow me to paraphrase by saying that my son has a slight speech issue- he can’t say his S’s. So, when he tells his sister, “I’m gonna smack you!” It comes out, “I’m gonna ‘mack’ you!” And when he says, “Mom, my poo is smelly”, it comes out, “Mom, my poo is ‘melly’”. I think you get the idea…

We recently went on a camping trip, and prior to leaving, I had to do the traditional Target shopping spree to stock up for the weekend’s adventures. While shopping at Target (or anywhere for that matter) with a three and a five-year-old is much like assigning yourself as a glutton for punishment, it had to be done. One trick I have up my sleeve that I use while shopping with my kids, is right when we walk in, I let them each pick a cheap toy or treat to carry around with them, then if they act up, I take it away! Works like a charm.

On this particular day, my son chose this 3-foot long wand full of bubbles as his “prize” for good behavior. Against my better judgement, I let him carry it with him through Target. Within minutes, he hit his sister with it, so I took it away. Allow me to ellaborate: I grabbed the bubble wand, my son fell to the floor in hysterics, screaming through the entire tampon/pantyliner/KY jelly/feminine product aisle of Target, “I WANT MY BIG STICK BACK MOM!” Now allow me to translate what every mom/child/hot single dad/red-hued shirt wearing Target worker/cute guy stocking Pepsi products/anyone within a 10-aisle radius heard: “I WANT MY BIG ‘DICK’ BACK MOM!” In as calm and refrained manner as I could muster, I said to my son, “Stop it! You can have your S-S-STICK back when you can behave.” Good Mommy. My son wails down every remaining aisle in Target, “I won’t hit sister with my ‘dick’ anymore! I want my big ‘dick’ back, MOOOOOO—MMMMYYY!”

I try to power through- just grab what I need, and of course about $50 worth of shit that I don’t, because that’s what everybody does when they go to Target or Wal Mart, or any variety of the two, while my son is blaring out of the cart over and over about his “big dick” and how he wants it back, and won’t hit anyone with it, et cetera. Finally, we get to the checkout, and I tell him that if he promises to be good, he can have his bubble stick back after his nap…amazingly he is satisfied with this, and we go home, he takes a nap and gets his “dick” back.

The next day, we leave to go camping with my family, and my in-laws for our anniversary weekend. I know you’re thinking wedding anniversary + parents + in-laws = romantic Tahoe getaway? I think not….but that’s another Oprah for another time. So, we’re all sitting around the campfire, and all of the kids (my two, plus my sister-in-laws two) are running around trying to gather wood for my dad-in-law “for the fire”, which is really a ploy to keep them away from the fire while therre is a can of firestarter and a blowtorch being used to light said fire. My son tromps up, dragging this huge tree-limb and yells to my mom, “Grandma! Look at my BIG ‘DICK’!” He yells- my head goes directly to my hand, and I shake my head in disbelief. Then he walks up to everyone in the campfire circle (not all family, some are friends of family that I barely know), “I found a big ‘dick’!” as he trodges through the camp dragging this huge 4-foot tree branch behind him. To increase my embarassment, because of his love for Gravedigger and everything monster trucks, he says “big dick” with this loud, growling monster truck voice that makes him sound even more pornographic. The soft-spoken sweet British lady that camps with us now and again looks at me, and says, “Dear, are you aware that your son is walking around the camp refering to his plonker?” in her beautiful English lilt. I sigh, and explain to her that he can’t pronounce his S’s and that he’s talking about his big stick that he found for the fire, which sends her giggling away.

By this time, my mom has had a couple of Long Island Iced Teas, and thinks it’s roaringly funny to have my son walk up to people and tell them what he has found.”Go up to Papa, show him your stick!” She prods….sure enough he walks up to his Grandfather and declares,”I got a BIG ‘dick’ Papa!” As he holds up the end of the tree branch, my dad laughs and says, “That’s ’cause you take after your Papa!” Now, my face is in both hands- I am truly mortified. I should be laughing…and I am now while recalling the “Big Stick” incident, but at the time, all I could do was let me son walk all over Tahoe Valley Campground, and declare to anyone who would listen that he had and/or found (not sure which is worse) a big ‘dick’, while I sat in silence, pretending not to know who’s kid he was, while I sat by the campfire and had a glass (or three) of wine.