Underdog.

A few years ago I came across a blog called 'The Wind in My Vagina.' I was appalled but intrigued so I stepped in for a closer, self righteous, look. When I discovered it was written by a Dad about his little girl - my indignation, nay, outrage went higher. Then I read the story behind the tagline and decided that although I thought it tasteless and a bit exploitive for this Dad to tell this story about his little girl - it was innocent and really quite funny.

Fast forward to last friday when I took the four year old to the park. She is now a big girl swing fan. Complete with underdog and sky high pushes. On the swing next to us was a starry eyed toddler being pushed very slowly by her sleepy eyed Dad. On a park bench a few feet away was mom, nursing their three week old son. (Sleepy Dad now excused.)
The toddler was fascinated by the four year old. her constant chatter, her infectious giggle and her endless desire to go "HIGHER!"

The Dad and I struck up a conversation about newborns, sleep deprivation, do the questions and chatter of a four year old, ever stop? You know the usual parent small talk, until we are interrupted by my girl.

"Mom it tickles!"

"What does sweetie?"

"The wind in my bagina."

(We can save the conversation about correctly naming body parts for another day.)

"?"

"When you push me forward on the swing, the wind tickles my bagina."

"Thanks for telling me." I blithely retort, trying not to laugh or turn scarlet and hoping that I have stopped the need for a third affirmation of her new found big girl swing fun. I turn to make a flippant comment to the Dad about how much he has to look forward to and am met by crickets chirping. The family have bolted. I assume that I can take from this that the phrase is still as jarring as it was when I first came across it a few years back. The only difference is that I now understand the desire to blog about it.