Nothing
Up My Sleeve
Jon
Gallagher
The
Question….
Okay,
so I’m sitting at the kitchen table, eating a stack of pancakes smothered in
syrup, watching my four year old daughter snarf down
a bagel with cream cheese. It’s a
familiar scene at the Gallagher house that happens about once every 24 hours,
usually in the morning, with no hint that the world is about to change with one
simple question.
“Daddy,”
the four year old begins, making sure she has my undivided attention.
“Yes,
Sweetie?”
“Can
I see your penis?”
Pancakes
with syrup practically came shooting out my nose.
It
took a few seconds to put my eyeballs back in my head and reattach my jaw. There are some questions you are never
prepared to answer and this one just shot to the top of the list.
As
soon as I was able to regain the power of speech, I said in a rather hoarse
voice, “What?!?!” Maybe I had
misunderstood. Maybe she had asked
for peanuts. Or a pencil. Or ANYTHING else.
“Can
I see your penis?”
Nope. I hadn’t misunderstood.
“Sweetie,
where’d you hear that word?”
I
wouldn’t be getting an answer right away.
She was too busy laughing.
I’m not sure if she was laughing at my reaction or the funny sounding
word she’d just produced, but one thing was certain: she had an uncontrollable
case of the giggles.
I
excuse myself from the table and walk as calmly as I can to retrieve my cell
phone. Meanwhile, from the
kitchen, I can hear, in between fits of laughter, “I want to see your penis.” This further confirms that I didn’t
misunderstand what she had just said.
While
we do have family members who have babies, none of them are male. I could immediately rule out my
daughter seeing a baby boy getting his diaper changed.
My
daughter is also enrolled in the Bright Futures program, so there’s a chance
that one of the little boys in her class has mentioned this particular part of
the anatomy to her. Whichever the
case, I decided that I needed to find out more.
I
call my wife and interrupt her commute to work. “Honey,” I say, with as much control as I can. “Do you know what our daughter just
said to me?” When I tell her, I
hear laughter, followed immediately by what sounds like her cell phone being
dropped.
So
far, I’m the only one who hasn’t found this development in my daughter’s short
life to be side-splitting hilarious.
I
finally get the story from my wife.
We’ve
enrolled my daughter in swimming lessons at the Riverplex
in Peoria. So far, the only real
thing she’s learned is how to get wet, but that’s beside the point.
The
Riverplex is a ultramodern facility that features all
sorts of fitness stuff like classes in aerobics, treadmills and stationary
bikes, a running track, several basketball courts, a water playground, and
enough swimming pools that would accommodate a small town. Swimming lessons are given for all
ages. They’ve spared no expense in
making this place easy and fun to use.
One
of the things they’ve done is install dressing rooms, not only for men and
women, but also for families. The
family dressing room is meant for people like me who take their daughters, or
mothers who take their sons. Those
dressing rooms are partitioned off so that members of the opposite sex don’t
get a free peep show. One of the
rules of the Riverplex is that if you have a child
who is opposite YOUR sex, you must use the family dressing room.
The
night before all this started, my daughter had had a swimming lesson. One mother, who was either too stupid
to read the rules, or was just stupid enough to think that they didn’t apply to
her and her son, decided to use the women’s locker room to change her son from
his bathing suit into his street clothes.
The kid was probably five or six, according to my wife’s calculations.
When
the woman stripped her son of his swim trunks, he was as naked as the day he was
born. Unfortunately, he was a
little more active than the day he was born and as soon as he was totally in
the buff, he started parading around the locker room, showing off his stuff.
My
wife said that my daughter got a real good look while his mommy beamed a proud
look at her son. Naturally, my
daughter was curious about the added equipment that the boy had that she, of
course, did not have.
This
prompted the discussion between my wife and daughter about the difference
between boys and girls, and what that thing is called. My wife said that she kept it simple
enough that she didn’t think my daughter would even remember it 24 hours later.
No,
but she sure as heck remembered it 14 hours later!
My
wife tends to share my outspokenness so I ask what she said to the mother of
the exhibitionist.
Nothing.
She
was too busy having the conversation with my daughter.
I
called the Riverplex shortly after hanging up from my
wife and voiced my objection to a little boy in the women’s locker room in a
very diplomatic way. I explained
what had just happened at the breakfast table and again, I was rewarded with
laughter.
I
also told them that if it happened again, my money would be finding a new home
rather than with them. That seemed
to get their attention. At least,
the woman I was talking with quit laughing, then got very serious.
I
accompanied my wife and daughter to the next swim class. This time there were explicit signs
posted on the doors of both the men’s and women’s locker rooms, telling patrons
that if they had a child with them of the opposite sex, they MUST use the
family locker room.
Sometimes
the squeaky wheel really does get the grease.
And
for those perverts who are wondering, no, I didn’t show her.
For
the rest of you, some weeks after the incident, yes, I now find it funny. Funny enough to write about
anyway. Just as long as it doesn’t
happen again.