Penis Ennui A friend of mine changed her daughter’s diaper in front of me the other day. I couldn’t hide my shock, and let out a little gasp. “What?” my friend said. “No penis,” I said, pointing. Of course, I knew there wouldn’t be. It wasn’t like she’d crossdressed the baby and I’d been duped. I have plenty of friends with daughters. I’ve seen vulvas. It happens that I own one. But having changed my own children’s bottoms approximately 18,000 times, I am conditioned to expect a penis inside a diaper. When there isn’t one, I experience an irrational jolt of panic, as if maybe it fell off. In our family, penises are standard-issue equipment. We have four of them, or rather, they do, my husband and our three sons. I am the odd woman out, the minority. It’s not how I was raised. I had a sister, a mother, and a father. No brothers. Females were the ruling class, and I was part of it. I don’t remember ever plunging ass-first into a toilet bowl in the house where I grew up.
What do You think about Planting Dandelions (2011)?
