Katie & Scott & Simon & Cecily.

Tag: sex

Day 305: painting

We started painting the nursery today.  We decided to paint three walls a pale-ish yellow sunshine-y color and one accent wall a bright blue color.

We chose those colors mainly because they matched colors in the baby bedding that we’d purchased.

But then, the blue wall brought up a bit of a psychological dilemma.  Would painting a blue wall prejudice our son into thinking that blue was a male color?  Would our newborn, staring at the blue wall all day, begin down the slippery slope of gender stereotypes, eventually hiding his true emotions from us because he feared it would make him less masculine?

Would it lead him into a life of misogyny, treating women differently because of his childhood wall color?  Would we have picked the color blue if it had been a girl?

Maybe we should have painted the wall pink!  Or maybe, we’re just overthinking it.  Just to be safe, we’ll make sure to let our son play with dolls if he wants to.

Day 69: giggle

Why is that I still find childish things so funny?  Does it have, like Klondike bars and Boy Meets World, have to do with remembering what it felt like to giggle at these things the first time around?

Or is the number 69 just always going to be inherently funny because of its sexual innuendo?  Who doesn’t think that farts in mixed company are hilarious?  Unintentional burps in quiet settings, especially places like churches or libraries?  Stupid puns regarding anatomy?  “That’s what she said!”?

I think there’s more to this than just reflections on the innocence of being a child.  I think we find this stuff humorous because it’s a good reminder that we’re all human.  No matter how hard we try to differentiate our senses of humor, there’s something in the base nature of these that still speaks to all of us.

We are raised in a culture where we’re told that crude jokes and bodily outbursts are inappropriate.  But we’re all creatures bred to have sexual desires and we all burp and fart when born.  I think the fact that we all giggle at these seemingly small indiscretions speaks to a quiet, internal, broad revolt against the strict societal standards that we’ve all had to grow up with.

In China, burping is perfectly acceptable when a meal is over, and I’ve heard my grandmother do it many times over the course of a half hour.  I find this hilarious.  Having lived in China their entire lives, most of my extended family does not.  It’s a pity, really.  In exchange for the refreshing freedom of being able to burp after eating with no chance of societal scorn, they’ve lost the shared furtive giggles and knowing looks between friends.

Because here, when someone burps or farts or says something that could be taken as an unintentional sexual statement, we all share a moment.  A moment that says: this is who we are.  And our parents and religious teachings and government agencies and stuffy co-workers may try to cover it up and give it the evil eye, but there’s no escaping it.

We are a nation of burpers and farters and That’s-What-She-Said-ers.  And we should be proud.

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