Further Vigina Monologues

Sarah sings almost non-stop. Today, while standing in line at Home Depot, she invented a song and dance that went with the sound of the beeping scanner at the cash register. Prior to the Home Depot Wiggle, she was making up a song at breakfast. It went like this:
In my VAGINA!
In my VAGINA!
In my VA...

You get the point. Given the frequency with which grown men talk openly about their members, I did not think it fair for me to squelch Sarah's early love for her womanhood. Still, I didn't want to let that song become her first big hit. I always felt a little embarrassed for Madonna's dad, along those lines.

So, as I handed her a muffin (the irony was not lost on me...) I explained that in public, it's not generally considered acceptable to speak or sing of one's private bits. "Why not?" she asked. I have no idea. "It just isn't" I said, perpetuating my American Puritanical roots. "You could sing about your more public parts, you know, like your ears or fingers or your nose", I offered.

She paused thoughtfully for a moment, then launched into the same tune with new lyrics:
Picking my nose!
Eating it!
Picking my nose!
Picking my nose!

At that point, I just went with my favorite go-to parenting technique and pretended I didn't hear her by becoming instantly engrossed in a book.