The bathroom was warm and clean and busy. Bright white tiles and light wooden partitions. Men coming and going. Taking showers in one of the three shower stalls or leaving their leavings in one of the other accoutrement built for that purpose. The boy and I waited our turn. Three days of camping in the rain, caked in mud and moss and bug bites, we needed a shower.
A shower stall emptied and we took our turn. They provided a shower stool upon which, after wrestling him out of his clothes, I placed my son. I joined him under the shower head and we commenced to getting clean. It's a fleeting pleasure that can be taken for granted, bathing your child. He's only three, but the Peanut is only five and she can practically shower by herself.
The warm water sluiced away our accumulated grime as I prepared to shampoo his blond, fly away curls, and we chatted.
"DADDY!" (he's a loud chatter)
"IS THAT YOUR PENIS?"
"Yes it is buddy."
"DADDY. YOUR PENIS HAS A BEARD."
"Yup, my penis has a beard."
"DADDY, WHY DOES YOUR PENIS HAVE A BEARD?"
"Well honey, because daddy's a grown-up."
"DADDY. MY PENIS DOESN'T HAVE A BEARD. WHY DOESN"T MY PENIS HAVE A BEARD?"
"Well buddy, when you start to get closer to being a grown-up, your penis will have a beard too."
He, thinks about that for a moment. I lean over him to wash his back. He balances himself against my chest.
"DADDY. YOUR BOOBIES!"
"Yep, my boobies."
"DADDY I COULDN"T FIND THEM BEFORE BECAUSE THEY WERE TOO SANDY BUT NOW THEY"RE CLEAN AND I CAN FEEL THEM DADDY YOUR BOOBIES!"
"That's good buddy."
Take that, other male campers of the white mountains. I don't know what you've got going on but me? I've got sandy boobies and a bearded penis. And a very chatty boy.