I Don't Even Want To Think About The Google Ad For This One

I almost don't want to make this post. Automatic ad keyword sensing is a blessing and a curse, I tell you.

My mother in law, blessings be upon her, calls it a birdie. Since my girlhood nickname was "Bird," you can imagine how I feel about that.

My mother calls it a peepee. Lots of other people do, as well. Witness the PeePee TeePee, for example.

Most people don't want to call it by its name, as evidenced by the many people who snicker at names like Peter Johnson and Dick Cox. I know a Dick Cox, actually, he's a nice guy.

But I swore that I would use its proper name, as I do for all his parts. I sing "Head Shoulders Knees and Toes." I tell him that I'm going to kiss his knees, and hold his hands, and wipe his chin.

And yet somehow, today, during the cleanup of the epic poop, I said in a high sing song voice, "Hold still, I gots to clean the poop off the winkie!"

Winkie?

WINKIE?

Did I say winkie?

I am not going to be the kind of person who says winkie. I refuse. I have standards to uphold.

I carried him outside to get the mail, chanting "Penis penis penis. It's a penis. Penis penis penis."

That's when I saw the meter reader. Man, my dogs are USELESS at this guarding thing.