"I Like Big Penises" Two Minutes of Fame vs. A Life of Infamy

I was a proud father. My daughter had finally shed her full time diapers for the occasional drenching of her panties with urine, or sometimes even worse...... but it was better than having to change diapers 10 times a day.

And so I was filled with great pride when during Sunday Brunch at Weaver Street Market my daughter announced that she had to "go pee pee in the toilet." We both proudly marched to the men's room.. she because she could tell when she had to pee and myself because I had helped to teach her how to know it. We entered the handicap stall, she pulled down her pants and then I heard the magic sounds of water dripping on water. Life is beautiful!

When finished, she hopped off the toilet and pulled her pants up. I was ready to head back out and socialize, but she had other plans.

"Da-Da, it's time for you to go pee pee" she announced. I could feel some build up in my bladder so I acquiesced. I unzipped and began to urinate, noticing that her eyes were glued to my male member.

Suddenly she blurted out "Dada, I like your big penis!". No woman has ever told me that before so I was able to put it all in perspective(of course, compared to her little 3 year old boyfriends, I probably had what looked like an enormous penis). Her statement announced to the rest of those other men lurking outside the stall was at first a little embarrassing, but then I thought to myself "With the number of emails that I get for Penis Enlargement pills, there must be an abundance of small penises out there". Putting two and two together I surmised that there must be at least one(and maybe two)small-penised guys outside my stall, envious of the man on the inside. That was enough to put a bounce in my step.

And so we walked out the door.

"Dada, I like your big penis!" she sang out. This time in the short hallway next to the woman's room. I imagined all the woman inside the women's bathroom hearing those words and wondering who the "man" was as they fantasized about a chance encounter with the oversized stud in the hallway, riding themselves of their under-endowed partner for life. I liked this feeling, I never realized that my daughter's passing out of the diaper stage would have such great side benefits.

As we entered the wine department she began chanting "I like big Penises. I like Big Penises."

The thought of her announcing this to the whole store had it's appeal, not unsimilar to how my neighbor would feel if his kid would start chanting "I love your Hummer, I love your Hummer". Since no one in Weaver Street could see my penis or his Hummer, it's helpful to have our children advertise for us!(of course to keep the comparison true, he would actually have to have a Volvo.)

Suddenly, it dawned on me. This could be taken out of context and could cause some trouble. "Dada, I like your big penis!" is not "I like big Penises. I like Big Penises." And some unhappy bored and unfulfilled mother is not the same as a diligent social worker who considers her work a 24 hour crusade against the injustices in the world. in about a millisecond my mood swung from that of proud male to terrified father. I envisioned my name on the sex-offender web site with my house showing up on the map as a little red star on my street. It's one thing to have all the women in Weaver Street thinking you're well-endowed. It's a whole different story to have all your neighbors think you're a sex-offender on an early release program!

This was not good! I needed to get my daughter out of her "I like big Penises. I like Big Penises." fixation before the wrong person interpreted it the wrong way and I ended trying to explain to a panel of overzealous social service employees what my daughter "really meant".

Luckily, 3 year olds are pretty easy to distract so an offer of a chocolate chip cookie appeared to transfer her fixation on penises to a fixation on chocolate chip cookies, which would just be one more of a series of fixations that make up a 3 year old's daily routine.

And I gladly gave up my two minutes of fame at the risk of a lifetime of infamy.