I don't have a penis, but I live with three of them.
The littlest one is always out and about.
Since I do not own one myself, I have this irrational fear the little boy is going to cut his penis off in some tragic accident.
I mean, there it is right out in front, waiting for disaster.
The following scenarios run through my mind as he runs around the house.
Door closes on it…chop!
Safety scissors slip…chop!
Flying leap off the wall unit…chop!
Linus loves to pull on it. He stretches out like silly putty. That has to hurt.
We told him, “Don't pull your penis. It'll fall off.” With a straight face, his sister looked at him and said, “That's what happened to mine.”
Oh, the horror.
Now Linus thinks he could lose his penis at any turn. Does that stop him from streaking around the house? Nope.
Last night, I sat Linus down and explained that we don't touch our penises in public. I motion toward his older brother and say, “Evan doesn't pull his penis out at the table.” To which Evan replies “I would if I could.”
I give up!