Please Stop Saying . . .

A few days ago, I was reading a post by Laura at Catharsis, and it triggered a memory that I had buried deep in the recesses of my mind.  Was it because the memory was traumatizing?  Was it because I was so emotionally scarred by this event that in order to survive without having a nervous breakdown my brain had to store it far, far away so as not to further damage my psyche?  Nope.  It's actually pretty freaking funny.

For our journey, I'll take you back in time about a year ago, and we'll return to one of our favorite settings - the grocery store.  As you may know, all sorts of naughtiness takes place at the grocery store, and this day was no exception.  At this point in time, Gavin's vocabulary was rapidly expanding.  He was constantly asking what things were, and then he would point them out to you in a questioning way.

For example:

Gavin:  Mommy, what's that?
Me:  That's a light bulb.
Gavin: (a few days later at the store): Is that a light bulb?
Me:  No, that's a screwdriver.
Gavin:  Oh, a screwdriver.  (5 second elapse)  Is that a light bulb?
Me:  No, that's a hammer.
Gavin:  Oh, a hammer.

And on and on and on.

So, on this particular day, we were at the grocery store, and we were buying a gift bag and a card.  (I can't even remember what for at this point.)  Out of nowhere, Gavin points to a red gift bag and says:

Mommy, is that a penis?

What?  What did you just ask me?  Now, you're probably thinking, "Oh this is one of those stories where she thought he said penis, but really he said something else that sounds like penis, right?"  Well, I dare you to think of any words a two-year-old would know that sound like penis.  Uh huh.  See what I mean?  There's no mistake here.  He asked me if the gift bag was a penis.

My first reaction:  What did you just say?

Gavin's response:  (a little louder this time)  Is that a penis?

Me:  (smirking and trying not to laugh)  No.  Stop asking me that.

Gavin: (who clearly noticed my smirk):  Is that penis, Mommy?

Lady a few feet down the aisle stares.

Me: (chuckling now)  No, stop saying that.

Gavin:  Mommy, is that a PENIS?

Me: (laughing harder) No, Gavin.  That's not a penis.  Stop it.

A few more shoppers look at me questioningly. 

Gavin: (huge grin on his face now)  MOMMY IS THAT A PENIS?

Me: (laughing so hard I can't even tell him to stop) 

Now, if I were a model parent, I would have been able to put on a straight face and sternly tell him to stop yelling 'penis' in the store.  Alas, I am  not.  It took me a few minutes to get it together enough so that I could distract him with something so he'd stop asking me if everything in the store was a penis.  I'm sorry.  I'm sure it offended people who heard his shouting, but it was funny.  Like, really funny.  And I couldn't stop laughing.  In fact, I'm laughing right now just thinking about it.

Where he learned 'penis' from, I don't know.  He was potty-training at the time, so maybe one day he asked either me or his dad what the thing was called that he peed from.  We had always tried to teach him the "correct" word for everything.  But, who knows.  Maybe we should have thought of a funny or cute name for it, but that just seems creepy to me.  Hey, look at my tallywhacker.   Hey, this is my pee-pee.  You live, you learn, right?  In the meantime, I'll just chalk it up to another funny grocery store trip.