Mulva

Every night right around pajama time, Moo usually starts digging into the (giantic, overflowing, couch-eating) pile of books in the playroom and picks out some favorites.  Last night was no different, except that she eschewed her usual selections of Froggy’s Best Christmas and Goodnight Moon for some more mature material:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

Uhhh, Moo?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t you want to read Fairy Colors?

“No!  I read this!”

Apparently, in Moo’s world, The Vagina Monologues is a book about “Mommy’s show.”  I have no idea why.  She insisted we read it before bed, so I flipped awkwardly through (there aren’t even any pictures! Er, thank God), rambling nonsense about my show while my eyes scanned explicit phrases.  So it went like this:

Me, fake-reading to Moo:  “And then Mommy put on her funny costume so she could do her show!”

Eyes scanning:  “Be my clitoris.  Be my clitoris.”

Me:  “And Mommy danced and sang, ‘too darn hot! too darn hot!’

Eyes scanning: “And we sang the vulva song, and danced the vulva dance…”

Me:  “And then everybody clapped and said, ‘Yay!’ and Mommy took off her vagina, uhhh funny costume so she could come out and give Moo a big big hug!”

Eyes scanning:  “Thong underwear.  Who thought that up?  Moves around all the time, gets stuck in the back of your vagina, real crusty butt.”

ACK!  Me:  “Theeee End.”

Moo:  Again!  Again!

Ohhh no, my crazy daughter.  I mean, you have to at least be able to correctly identify your own bellybutton before I start teaching you about vaginas.