My Daughter Has A Wiener

My daughter has a wiener. When I first heard this, it was news to me. I began to question everything. How could God play such a cruel trick on our family? Am I a bad father for dressing her him in girls clothes for nearly four years? Is this how I find out I have a son? How much are the physiatrist bills going to be?

As I took time to reflect upon such deep questions, I began to wonder about the validity of the source that informed me of my daughter's condition. This source doesn't officially practice medicine, however, she does often take vital signs, give shots, and administer pain medication. Shouldn't someone with those skills at least be able to tell male from female? The conclusion I came to is no.

You see, the source was my daughter. She ran into the room announcing that she had just been hit in the wiener. After her declaration, she paused, as if waiting for laughter; however there was none to be found.

Lately, the three year old has been talking way too much about wieners. She doesn't even know what a wiener is, and that is what frightens me. What happens when she finds out she doesn't have one? Will our family be primed for the Dateline special that follows a family whose child wants a sex change? Will she be curious, and pursue further knowledge of the aforementioned body part? If so, I'm sure it will force me to buy that shotgun earlier than expected.

These my friends, are the things that keep me up at night.