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I try to use correct terminology for body parts when talking to Truman. I call his penis his penis, just like I call his arm his arm. At daycare, the teachers call it his pee-pee which is frustrating because I call the act of peeing going pee-pee and I feel this is probably confusing to him. My husband calls Truman’s penis his “deal.” Why, I’m not sure, but it is cute overhearing him. “Truman, tuck your deal into the potty.” “Truman, let go of your deal so I can put your diaper on.” I figure if I keep calling it his penis he will know the real name and in the interest of choosing my battles, I’ll let Daddy continue to call it his deal.

Truman has been battling a diaper rash for weeks. I get it almost cleared up completely and the next day it flairs up again and we start all over. I have used cornstarch, Desitin, Burt’s Bees powder and baking soda baths. I think it has to do with the Sam’s Club diapers we bought and the fact that this kid has been pooping six times a day lately and it is irritating his skin. Last night I changed him after dinner and he was crying when I wiped him and I felt horrible. I took his little bare butt out to Daddy and said I was running to CVS to find some kind of super strong, miracle rash cream and to let Truman run around diaper free until I got back. Sometimes a little air helps the healing process.

I ran to CVS and found Butt Paste Extra Strength and remembered that I had used it when Tru was really little and it had worked well. I bought it and came home. Truman was playing in the living room airing out his bottom half and came running to me when I got there. I covered him in butt paste, diapered him up and joined him in the living room to play. Mike got up a few minutes later and noticed a big wet puddle on the floor near the wall.

“What is this? Did he spill his cup?” Mike leaned down to get a closer look and I picked up his cup and tested it for leaking…none.

“Um, no…I’m guessing he peed.” When I said that Truman came running over and pointed to the floor.


“Did you pee-pee on the floor?”

Nodding his head, “Pee-pee. Uh-oh.”

“That’s ok, Daddy is going to clean it up. Next time you have to tell Daddy when you have to go potty though. You just say, Daddy! Potty!”

And this is when he sits down, grabs his crotch with both hands, looks at me very seriously, and says, “My deal.”

“It was your deal?” I was laughing but trying hard to continue this conversation.

“Yeah. Pee-pee. My deal!”

And there you have it. Sometimes, through no fault of your own, your deal just does what it wants. How do you argue with that?