Free Willy

Oliver is a typical little boy.  I suppose.  And he has entered what Freud would call the phallic stage.  So far, he fortunately doesn't seem to have developed an Oedipus complex, but he has begun to focus his attention, well, down there.  He plays with it when I change his diaper.  I literally have to pin his arms down to get the diaper on without a hand fastened inside.  Every time I've put him on his frog potty, he spends the whole time playing with his Wee Willie Winkie rather than peeing into the potty.  

Last week, on a nice afternoon when Oliver was in nothing but a t-shirt and diaper (which he kept taking off), I decided to let him run around the backyard without it on.  This is, I imagine, how he will spend parts of the summer in what I hope will be the first stages of potty training.  The thing is, I don't know if he'll use it if he keeps holding on to it.  (And I only hope that there's no phallus meets brick patio incidents that leave me without grandchildren.)

So tonight after his bath, I went to lotion Ollie up.  He likes to help, of course, and so I gave him little bit in his hand.  And what did he do -- well, he lathered it up, of course.

I know it's a stage.  I know it's normal.  But dude.  I guess this is just part of having a boy.