On the way to school yesterday, V announced, "mommy, do you remember when I used to run into the bathroom when daddy was peeing? I used to like to try and see him squeeze his penis and make the pee come out." As I'm trying not to laugh, remembering how M used to dance around to block her view before he got smart and started locking the door, she adds, "That's a true story," and I am suddenly horrified.
Why, you may ask? Well, V's class does something called Writer's Workshop. Kids are asked to illustrate a story, and then the teacher puts their words to it. A TRUE STORY.
I then talked about private parts, trying to think of how to tell her that under no circumstances did I want to come in to talk with the school counselor about why V drew a picture of her Daddy's penis in Writer's Workshop without in fact, suggesting it as a good topic.
She then told me how the teacher told some kids in her class that they were engaging in bathroom talk and had to stop. I told her that the story about daddy peeing was bathroom talk, too, and would not be appropriate at school. Fingers crossed.
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