MyThreeDaughters

That’s right, I’m not going to Google Images and typing in “vagina” to find an illustration for this entry. Lord knows what you’d get, and this is a work computer.
But the fact is, those things are all over this house, it’s a four-to-one ratio here. And since we taught the girls the biological term instead of making up some silly word, they don’t hesitate to use it.
Examples:
Fontaine:  Oh yeah, that’s right, I forgot Daddy doesn’t have a vagina.
Elizabeth, one of the all-time greats, at the dinner table at my parents’ house, in direct earshot of my old-school Dad: This necklace is long…it hangs all the way down to my vagina.
Elizabeth, while dropping off her older sister one day at elementary school, observing that a kindergartener’s Dad was riding the five-year-old’s bike over to the bike rack (a grown college professor, riding a kid’s bike instead of just pushing it…it did look outrageous): He’s not sitting on the seat, where you’re supposed to put your vagina.
So I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised, the other night while giving Rosebud, the 16-month-old her bath, when she looked, um, there and said…‘gina.
Vagina, vagina, vagina, vagina.
Man, this web site’s going to get some hits now.