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!!“