Oh, hello. I am originally from Toronto. Have you heard of Toronto? It’s a beautiful city that you should totally visit! There are some other things going on in The City of Toronto right now that you may have also heard of, for instance, oh I don’t know — say, the revelation that the mayor smokes crack? And although on some level that revelation was gob-smackingly insane, it was also sad and terrible. Though it was difficult to say the least (and most people want him out of office I would imagine), many people were attempting to muster compassion for this deeply troubled person in charge of a major metropolitan city.
But then he went on TV and literally referenced an ess-ee-ex act with a woman other than his wife, but also his actual wife, and in doing so said the word “pu**y,” which my children heard on the news. Also, Nanas.
Oh, haha adorable. Later that day I had a discussion with my mother-in-law in which she then used the word “pu**y” up to ten times as we discussed the situation in a pretty much permanent state of mutual face palm. In case you didn’t know this, NOBODY should ever have to hear their mother-in-law say the P-word. (I love you Mum.)
That was the moment I considered that there were going to be some interesting conversations around the ole dinner table.
It reminds me of a certain mayoral race we had in New York recently in which one beloved candidate, Anthony Weiner, disgraced for sending penile selfies about, was also all over the news — and my children heard about that, too.
It would seem that I listen to the news a lot. Also, I am not a prude.
Genital references don’t bother me; in my line of work, they are the wind beneath my wings! But they also don’t often pop up on public radio, and so when they do, it opens a fun new world of opportunity to discuss things with one’s seven- and five-year-olds.
For instance, my children are now physically unable to stop saying “Mayor Weiner.” Any time they hear the word “mayor,” they say “Paging Mayor Weiner, Paging Mayor Weiner!” and collapse into a puddle of laughter. They literally cannot believe that someone would ever take a photo of their genitals and send it to someone — and that’s pretty much all they know about that scenario; just enough info to satisfy the curiosity, but not a confusing overabundance of it. They are so disappointed when people reference our next mayor, Bill DiBlasio, and his boring approach to “professionalism.” Ugh.
I must admit I had a little trouble dealing with the P-word.
My triage moment was telling them that the mayor likes to eat kittens, and I am OK with that for now.
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