Aftermath

I had my vasectomy in the morning, which meant I got to spend the rest of the day in bed, with a bag of frozen corn on my crotch. (Yes, I know frozen peas are the industry standard, but I had to work with what we had in on hand—and what WonderWife™ would willingly spare from the freezer.)

That day, I had a decision to make--I could hide in the bedroom or I could sit on the couch, which meant that the Bean would see me when he got home from pre-school and probably ask me to read him Curious George books for the rest of the day. Even though it meant that I was without access to the HD TV and Blu-Ray player, robbing me of the perfect opportunity to finish watching season 1 of “Mad Men”, I decided the smart play was to stay in the bedroom.

In the evening I emerged, slowly and tenderly, from the bedroom while the Bean was eating dinner. Sure enough, all he wanted to do was climb into bed with me and read. Upon seeing the frozen bag of veg on in my lap he stared at me with titled head and asked, “Why?” I told him that I had gotten hurt and the doctor helped make me better. Then I asked him kindly to stop bouncing on the bed.

The next day at breakfast, the Bean wanted to know more.

“Did you have an owie on your penis?” he asked.

“Uh…yes. You could say that.”

“How did you get it?”

My mind raced through possible explanations, but I drew a blank. All I could think about was that whatever I told him would most likely be repeated to his friends, his teachers, anyone who looked at him in the mall…

WonderWife™ giggled from the kitchen. She called out, “I’ve never seen you so flummoxed answering a question before.”