So, ever since his birth, my 2-year-old son (we’ll call him Gunther to protect his identity. Hey! Don’t go looking up his real name on my “About” page!). Anyway, since birth, Gunther has been obsessed with his penis. His scrotum too. As, I’m sure, are all little boys older boys grown men people with penises.

(MOTHER: Doctor, when will my son get over this obsession with his penis? DOCTOR: Well, has your husband gotten over it yet? MOTHER: Touche.)

I’m telling you he was not even a week old the first time he grabbed it during a diaper change. And this was not your typical grab. (Not that I know what a typical penis grab looks like. Just saying.) He really squeeeezed it. And dug his nails in. I had to call my husband in.

“Honey, doesn’t this look like it should hurt?”

He regarded it with a head tilt and a squint. Like an art buyer studying a painfully grotesque portrait. “That can’t feel good. Come on, Buddy, let go.”

But Gunther just squeezed tighter. And he was smiling.

Recently, he started reaching into his diaper and pulling it out. I really want to be the cool mom who doesn’t let such things concern her. And truly, I don’t care that my son likes to play with his penis. Why should I?

Except for this. Penis out means pee all over the clothes. So I started putting onesies under his clothes, all the time. Especially at night, because every morning he’d been waking up with soaking wet pajamas and sheets, and I’m sick of all the laundry.

The first morning he woke up in a onesie, I opened his bedroom door to find him lying on his stomach, butt in the air, with one hand reaching around and trying to get in there from underneath. When he noticed me he cried, “Mommy! Play with the penis Mommy!” Then a more desperate, shrieking, “HELP PLEASE! PLAY WITH THE PENIS!”

Sorry, bud. That’s something Mommy can’t help you with.