i want to fall in love

Clamoring in the mornings to get us both ready, and Boogey out the door with his teeth brushed and hair combed has always been a task in and of itself.  Lately it’s the additional ten minutes he has been forcing me to take on bended knee to explain why it’s important to cover his peanuts that makes me tardy for work.
 
“My peanuts do not fall out of my shorts, Mom!” he always says in a nearly exasperated tone. 

You’re tired? Put on your fucking underwear!

This is what I want to say to him, but of course, since we’re talking about nudity and his personal bits, it’s a delicate subject and I don’t want to scare the child or make him feel ashamed.

I try to demonstrate sitting on the floor with my legs crossed, and he points out that I don’t have any nuts, to which I reply that he can use his imagination since we’re lacking the visual aid.  He ends up asking me why I don’t have any nuts, where did my nuts go and when will I grow some nuts.
 
I googled and Baby Center’ed this subject of underwear hate.
I purchased fun undies for him such as Scooby Doo glow-in-the-dark briefs, Spongbob boxer briefs and even Spiderman boxers.
 
“They’re too tiiiiight,” Boogey whines no matter the size I purchase.
 
Sometimes the first thing he does when he gets home is scratche his balls. 

After he takes off his shoes …and pants… and underwear he will part his legs as if he’s squatting, stand in the kitchen and jingle his change. I ask him if it itches or hurts and he tells me no, it just feels good. I’m usually disturbed by this and demand for him to go wash his hands and put on pants.
I guess my kid likes for his junk to hang free.

However, yesterday morning a miracle happened…Boogey requested underwear.

You see this past weekend we spent much of Sunday playing outside at my folks’ house, throwing water balloons at one another. My legs were eaten alive by the skeeters and lord knows what other kind of bugs, and Boogey received his fair share of bites as he always does, even bug bites in his freaking hair that’s how much the bloodsuckers love him.

Later that night in my folks’ guest bathroom he stood there scratching his balls as I ran bath water.
I noticed he wasn’t just scratching, he was clawing…with two hands.
Boogey began to whimper that he had a booboo on his birdie as he mangled his poor testes. He insisted I take a look, and parted his legs in squat stance with hands on his hips.  And there it was, on his right testicle, one swollen mosquito bite.
 
“A bug bite on my balls?!” Boogey cried, struggling to keep his balance as he bent over to try to get a look at the bite.
 
I explained to him that this is why it’s important to wear underwear, ya know, to keep the bugs off your balls.