Mummy, where is your willy?

So I totally blame my friend Tina for putting me in this situation.

Tina, or rather her daughter Florence, bought Dexter a lovely book titled “There’s a house inside my mummy”, to help explain my ever expanding waistline and why I spend most days with my head down the loo.


The book is beautifully written and illustrated and makes me feel all warm and gushy when I read it to him.

One page in particular always makes me smile.


How calm and relaxed does this woman look? She’s not only bathing with her child, but also giving her unborn child a chance to be close to his/her older brother. Gosh so moving, so beautiful and soooooooooo bloody far from reality.

In the absence of Daddy, Dexter begged me to have a bath with him last night. Something I always jump at the chance of doing but lately Dex has got a bit of an obsession with my boobs, probably because they are enormous and I have nipples the colour of grape juice. My boobs are really sensitive and I can’t stand his grabby hands near them and I also don’t want him to think he’s hurt me if I wince in pain.

So with no back up plan I ran us both a bath and climbed in after him, shoving him down the tap end. You know, teaching him future life skills. And this is when he looked at me closely.

“Mummy where is your willy?”

“I don’t have one Dexter, I have a Minnie instead”. Straight away I regretted this choice of name as he had hand picked his plastic Minnie to have a bath with us too. Bugger.

He had a good look at Minnie and then my Minnie and gave me a very confused look. Poor lad. I tried to explain the difference between boys and girls, men and ladies and he just giggled and sent Captain Barnacles down to “Mummy’s cave” to have a look. Sigh.

I mean he did have his deep sea diving gear on, so we know he was safe.


I think I’ll leave the rest of the body chat to the OH to cover.

Thanks for reading

Mummy over and out


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