Chicken Parmisan

Okay, so I guess we weren't exactly prepared for this sort of thing quite yet. As you have probably seen by now, Abigail turned three years old this past Sunday. Well, she has certainly wasted no time at all on growing up. A question she posed at the dinner table Monday night was nothing short of a curve ball. It was one of those dreaded questions like, "Where do baby's come from?" But that wasn't the question. Are you ready? Any guesses yet?

We're sitting quietly at the table, struggling to get the kids to eat their dinner (nothing new about that one!), and Abigail, as innocent as can be says, "Mommy, Nathaniel's bottom has something sticking out of it in the front. What is that?" I was in histerics! We all laughed at that one. Being the totally supporting husband that I am, I looked at my intelligent wife to whom this question was addressed and said, "Yeah, Mommy, what is that?"

And as if the silence then laughter wasn't enough to deter little Abigail, she was honestly wanting an answer. She kept on, saying, "I don't have that."

So, just to prod her a little bit I intervened and asked Abigail, "Honey, what do you think it is?" She said, "I don't know." Then I looked at Ashley and asked, "So, what exactly do you want to call that thing?"

I mean this is a big deal! Whatever you choose to call it will imprint a label on a three year old's mind for a very long time. AND it will most definitely be repeated at the most unfortunate and embarrasing times in the future.

As Ashley and I were discussing quitely amongst ourselves what to call "the thing" Abigail said that she knew what to call it, and said it was....get this...."chicken parmesan."

I haven't the faintest clue what the connection would be, but you can imagine the roaring laughter that erupted after this. I'm afraid I laughed the loudest. Ashley was a close second.

SO....we resolved to call "the thing" a "Pee Pee." AND of course, this was not enough. SIDENOTE: As most of you who have ever been around a talking 2 or 3 year old know, there is never only ONE question. There are probably about 100 why's to follow one main question, and as if it were some strange phenomenon, you feel somewhat obligated to have an answer for every last one of those why's.
So then she asked, "Why does he have that? Why don't I have one?"

And we ended the discussion with simply, "Because God made him a boy and that's how he made boys."

Now, there are two things I have learned from this most intriguing discussion with the flowering youth of my home. ONE - my innocent little girl is growing up too fast. And TWO - I will never look at Chicken Parmesan the same again!