Get it right, woman

Nigel lies on the floor in front of me, a fresh diaper under his newly-clean bottom. We’re reached an impasse: his hand is firmly attached to his nether bits.

“Okay, Nigel. Let go of your penis so I can close your diaper.”

“Dat’s not my penis, dat’s my doodle.”

“At Mary’s house, we call it a penis, okay?”

“O-tay. Is a penis.”

“Yes, it is. Good man.”

Pause.

“So, Mr. Man. You planning on letting go of that thing any time soon?”

He removes his hand, but gazes at me sternly.

“Mahwee. Is not a thing. Is my penis!!“