The other night, my husband was changing the girl’s diaper before putting her to bed. He had just cleaned her up with wipes and figured he’d wait a moment before closing the diaper to give her a chance to dry off.
She has an oscillating fan in her bedroom. When the breeze caught her bare behind, she giggled.
“What’s so funny?” my husband asked.
She just looked down. But when the fan passed again, she burst into giggles.
Nothing. So he went to close her diaper and she said, “NO! Leave it. I like to feel the wind on my jagina.”
My husband did his best not to burst out laughing and said, “Okay. 2 more passes of the fan and I close your diaper.”
She practically shrieked with glee.
I loved this story instantly, because a) it really illustrates what a remarkable kid my little girl is. I mean, come on, she’s 2 1/2. She likes the wind on her vagina? Come on.
And b) it shows how awesome my husband is. He didn’t make her feel bad about it at all. He recognized her pleasure, acknowledged her right to it and set a damn decent limit on the whole thing.
But I seriously debated about whether or not to write about it here. My son is already aware that I write stories about him and his sister that a lot of people read. But he has no concept of the Internet. I’ve already warned him that when he grows up, he might not like all the stories I wrote, but he would see how much I love him and his sister.
Her? She’s clueless. I mean, let’s face it, they both are. But one day she’s going to read this post and possibly be humiliated by it. Although she shouldn’t be, because she’s fucking AWESOME.
But the next night, I had dinner with about a dozen women. We ate great food, killed off of an ung-dly amount of wine and talked into the wee hours. At some point during the evening, I recounted the story of the girl, her father and the fan.
After a little more food and a little more wine, someone posed a question to the group: if money weren’t a concern, what would you be doing? While we all had different answers, there was a common theme among the majority – spend more time on ourselves.
And then one woman said, “I want to feel the wind on my vagina.”
Everyone nodded their head and I suddenly understood the profoundness of that statement. I think every woman must. I think everyone must. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the expression spread like wildfire -
I’m so fed up at work; the boss hates me, my co-workers think I’m a bitch and I never make it to daycare before they close. I need a vacation. I want to feel the wind on my vagina.
When the true genius of my daughter’s innocent mutterings became apparent to me, I knew I had to write this post.
It might make a really cool story one day.