Boys do some odd things. With two sons of my own, I often ask myself (sometimes aloud), “Why would he do that?” The answer is often: “because… penis.”

#2 on left in 2014, #3 on right in 2016

I don’t know whether it’s the y-chromosome (aka: “Why?”-chromosome), the testosterone, or simply the male anatomy to blame. I’m just seeing a connection over here with my boring double-x chromosome.

Empty bucket? I would likely fill it with water or sand, not my head or hindquarters. I see my uncovered nether regions? I move on and/or clothe myself, I wouldn’t start shimmying about the room pelvis first, attempt feats of strength with my labia, or pull on my parts like Silly Putty. Boys though, they see these ordinary scenarios as opportunity for experimental enjoyment.

Why does he squirt himself in the face with the hose that has a nozzle set to “Jet”? Why does he lick the floor of the pediatrician’s office? Why is the word “poop” so utterly hilarious? Why is his own genitalia simultaneously humorous and fascinating?

Because penis.