When I envisioned becoming a mother, I anticipated hard work. I anticipated yucky situations. I did not anticipate, however, that while fulfilling my noble and divine calling, my very dignity would be in almost constant danger.
When my son was a toddler, if he wasn't pulling my skirt up for all to see, or pulling my shirt collar down to my pants, he was occasionally making false statements that pulled my character into question. Perhaps the latter infraction is most dangerous because many people live with the false assumption that only pure, whole, undeniable truth is ever uttered from the lips of children.
During this tender age, our family took a road trip to visit family. During the trip, we stopped at a gas station. I needed to use the restroom, so while my husband refueled the car I took our newly potty trained son with me. I brought my son into the stall with me, and as I went about my business this is the conversation that ensued:
My Son: Mommy, are you a man?
My son: Mommy, are you turning into a man?
All I could do was smile, put my head in my hands... and wait for the person in the neighboring stall to wash their hands and exit the restroom before I came out of the stall.