Mummy, where’s your willy?

I’ve been expecting this. Privacy being zero in this house, I was showering and the small boy wandered in and appraised me.

“Mummy, where’s your willy?”

Here we go I thought, stealing myself for the conversation.
“Mummy doesn’t have a willy, you and Daddy have willies, Mummy doesn’t.”

“You’ve got a bottom!” he bellows, I smile and nod.
“…and boobs, you’ve got big boobs!”

“I don’t have boobs” he says proudly, slapping his chest as if to double check he is still without breasts; then he wandered off to search for a toy car or something.

And so it begins.

where's your willy