Popular culture and fellow parents caution about the terrible twos, the hormonal tweens, and the moody teens, but no one told me about the phase Franny is in right now. The whole world failed to warn me that six-year-olds literally never stop talking!
Have you seen the internet meme that says, “Once I became a parent, I finally understood the scene where Yoda gets so tired of answering Luke’s questions he just dies.” I’m thinking of having it tattooed on my back as nothing so accurately sums up my life. There are days where I wish I could pull a Yoda.
This idiosyncrasy of Franny’s is particularly manifest on the walk to and from school. The walks are a seven-minute pilgrimage of Franny rambling on about whatever pops into her little mind. For awhile I got away with zoning out or even listening to headphones while she talked incessantly. I would occasionally interject a “uh-huh,” but then Franny started asking why I only ever said “uh-huh.”
Now I have to pay attention when she talks and talks and talks so that I can answer any questions that may come my way. For example, “how does the baby get into the mommy’s belly?” That one I dodged by saying we were too close to her school to get into it and we would talk about it later. Luckily, she has not followed up.
Franny will frequently get frustrated with Aaron and me for interrupting her. We try to kindly point out that sometimes we have to interrupt her because she is always talking. If we didn’t interrupt, we would never get to speak. Other times she will be chatting up an adult, regardless of whether or not they speak English. I smile, hustle Franny away, and tell them, “She won’t stop, we’ll just go.” Additionally, Franny wanted me to point out that she even talks to herself.[1]
Here in Japan, we see praying mantises around all the time. The large insects have been the topic of countless walks to and from school. Franny recently learned that female praying mantises eat the heads off the males after mating.[2] This concept has captivated her. During one mantis themed endless walk to school, Franny asked me, “Why do they eat their boyfriends?”
“Maybe their boyfriends never stop talking,” I responded.
“Hmm. Maybe because the mom needs to be strong to take care of the babies, and eating the boyfriend is a lot of food,” she replied.
She did not catch my point.
Franny also spends a lot of time discussing how the boys at school pee since all the kids use the same bathroom together. She thrusts her hips forwards, positions her hands at groin level, and says that the boys “hold onto their butts.” Thank God the Japanese parents around us cannot understand most of what we say in English.[3]
I know I should have taught her the proper names for the body parts from the beginning. It’s what all the books and all the experts advise. But I couldn’t bring myself to say the words to my three-year-old. Mostly because when my cousin was little, she shouted, “My underwear is in my vagina” in a crowded and hushed auditorium during my dance recital. To avoid a similar Franny and “vagina” related incident, Aaron and I just started calling it her “front butt.”
Given that now she is calling penises “butts,” I figured it was time to face my fears and teach her the terms. One day, I gave her the run down on girl and boy anatomies. I read in a book that we should call female genitals by their proper names like vulva and labia instead of just calling everything the vagina. I wanted to follow this advice so I vaguely alluded to the location of each part of the female genitalia.
Awhile later, I corrected Franny when she said “butt” but was clearly referring to the labia.
“Like me,” she said. “Frances Labia Clum-Smith.”
“No, no, no,” I said trying my best not to laugh. “Your name is Frances Xavia[4] Clum-Smith. Not labia.”
Her dad would have never let me name her Labia.
Next on my to do list is to get her to stop calling bras “boobie straps.”
[1] At least she is self-aware.
[2] Aaron wanted me to clarify that it was me who taught Franny about praying mantises eating their mates.
[3] I occasionally abuse this feature of life in Japan by throwing out a “shit” or “god dammit” in front of Japanese children.
[4] Pronounced “Zay Ve Ah.” Rhymes with labia.