Quickie: "Weenie!"

A short story from Wednesday...

It's a typical Wednesday morning in McCallen land. Noah and I hurry through breakfast (always running late), take a sippy of Vitamin D milk to go and cruise to the babysitter's house.

When we arrive, we launch into our usual five-minute hello/what's new?/see you later! routine. This morning, Noah clamors up on the couch to greet one of the sitter's two dachshunds. In this case, it was Frank.

Frank loves having his belly rubbed, so he laps Noah on the face and immediately rolls over for a tummy rub. Noah obliges Frank, giving his midsection a not-so-gentle, but not-so-tough pat or two. But then...

... then Noah pauses, reaches out his little hand and tweaks poor Frank's nether regions. I didn't even have time to register what he'd done before he looked up at me with an enormous smile and said, "Weenie!"

What's a mom to do? Laugh, of course, and say, "You're right, buddy. That's Frank's weenie."

Guess he'll pass those college anatomy courses with flying colors...