Barbie Talks Anatomy

We’re cruisin’ in my Jeep. Sorry, the “Barbie Jeep,” according to Sis.

She lets one rip. No warning, no shame. Just a confident little fart from the car seat and a half second giggle. Loud enough that Barbie flipped her sunglasses and yelled “Damn, girl!” Then, without missing a beat Sis says: “I tooted. And it tickled my vulva.”

I froze. Fully shell-shocked. Not because she was wrong. She’s absolutely right. That shit happens! Ask any auntie in bike shorts who’s sneezed wrong in public. I froze because she said it like it was just another moment in her Barbie Jeep itinerary: “Had a snack, got a breeze, toot tickled my vulva.”

I didn’t laugh... Okay, I did. But not at her. I laughed because I’m a dork and the word “vulva” still hits me like a dodgeball to the face. I grew up in a world where you couldn’t even say “butt” without someone gasping like you kicked a priest. Everything was “down there” or whispered because it could summon demons.

Sis has been properly briefed. Her parents are both in the medical field. They know anatomy, and they’re not afraid of it. No cutesy nicknames. No confusing metaphors. They taught her the real words from the start. So now I’ve got a toddler with a fully loaded vocabulary strapped into her car seat behind me, giving full-body status updates.

I grew up afraid to say the names of my own body parts. Sis is out here educating the entire block from the back seat with a fart and a fun fact.

So yeah. If you’re wondering how my day’s going: Sis farted and casually redefined health class on the way to Target. Just another Tuesday in the Barbie Jeep.