In this hilarious and thought-provoking podcast, Owen reflects on the names that we give to ourselves. Or at least parts of ourselves. All parents will recognize this sweet and goofy and awkward bathtub moment. DadLabs Ep. 56 Daditude.

Daddy Owen: My daughter is learning to talk. Just a few words – book, more, dog, wa-wa (for water). All day she points at objects and people and my wife Jody and I give them names. That’s Bob, that’s a shoe, that’s an empty bottle of scotch. We’re like Adam and Eve naming the animals. It’s a daunting task. Perhaps I’m overstating the case but I believe we are handing her the words she’ll use for a lifetime and by helping to shape her language we are affecting the way she sees the world. This is a particularly i8mportant job when considering her private parts – what to call them. Jody and I have given this question ample thought. My parents taught me I had a tiddle. Why two medical doctors chose to label part of the anatomy with what sounds like a rejected Fraggle name is unclear, but the word tiddle stuck with me until some uncomfortable conversations in sixth grade gym class. Jody was taught to refer to her nether regions as her vagina, which in Latin translates to sheath for a sword. We kept searching. We are very aware that whatever word we choose will be at some point pronounced clearly and loudly in a public place. So Jody developed the “Mommy, my blank is itchy” test. If the word sounds wrong in that sentence it won’t work. One friend with a son and a daughter has told them that he has a birdie and she has a nest. The problems with this setup seem too numerous to venture into. Arden’s uncle suggested using a cute name like kitten. At first this didn’t seem like such a bad idea until we considered possible future conversations. A friend telling her my kitten bit me last night, or I’m sad because my kitten got run over in front of our house, or see that hair ball? My kitten coughs one up every morning. After several other suggestions Jody and I settled on “yony”, an ancient name that otherwise means “sacred place”. And although it sounds eerily similar to the name of a soft jazz piano player it words well. Yony – or Yuooony as Arden says it – she points out her Yuooony, she points out Jody’s Yuooony, and her grandmothers Yuooony, and the waitresses Yuooony. The word has highlighted the region. It is now a country with a name, a mystery with a title, and now she knows that she has a Yuooony she is realizing that her daddy doesn’t. Recently she saw me making a naked dash for the shower. She gasped and pointed, an expression on her face that seemed to say – oh no daddy, something fell out. She blinked and tilted her head and asked, Yuooony? No no I said, it’s daddy’s, uh daddy’s tiddle. Oh well, it’s better than birdie.