Never, ever say anything about your vagina in front of an almost-three-year-old.

This morning I had a flip-out. It seems like everything at this stage (31 weeks pregnant) just sucks. It’s hot, I’m tired/uncomfortable/sleep-deprived/pissed off and everything (EVERYTHING) is an ordeal.

Today’s ordeal revolves around my vagina. Basically I put off “trimming the bushes” as long as I could stand it, but finally I had to do SOMETHING. So I did. It’s not like I didn’t think I needed help. I did. And I’ve asked Husband to help me, but he is afraid to. HE’S afraid. What about ME? I’m waving a razor around blindly down there. But I digress.

My efforts left me feeling like things were somewhat back in order, but I am pretty sure I chewed the skin off in certain places. In fact, I know I did. As I waddled into the living room this morning, I announced that my vagina hurts.

Husband looked at me, looked at ONE, and back at me with a look that let me know that I had made a grave mistake.

We waited.

ONE: “What, Mommy?”

Me: “Nothing.”

ONE: “What you say?”

Me: “Nothing. Put your shoes on.”

ONE: “YOUR GINA HURTS? YOUR GINA HURTS, MOMMY???”

At this point Husband and I started laughing uncontrollably. There was no holding it in. I laughed so hard I cried. And once ONE realized whatever he was saying was freaking hilarious, he wouldn’t stop saying it. Gina, gina, gina.

It’s my own fault. But it’s FUNNY. Yes, son. My vagina is killing me. Now run along and play.