With 3 boys under 5, there’s never a dull moment. Certainly never a quiet one… Buggy Blogger mum to J (4), B (3) and S (1) thinks she knows a thing or two about willies.

Let's not be coy, we're currently in the grip of a willy fixation. 'Why doesn’t mummy have one … she does … she doesn't?', 'Just ticklin' it', 'It's itchy', 'Where d'you wee from then?', 'Look, my red-nose-day nose on it!' and so on.

With four lads in the house – three of whom are inquisitive and quite uninhibited on the subject – I guess it's inevitable that we'll spend a fair chunk of time contemplating the family's family jewels. And without wishing to brag, sound lewd, or invite arrest, I could claim to be something of a willy expert these days. It can't be avoided with three of them all lined up in a row at bathtime and I've got about a zillion 'in ya face' nappy changes under my belt. And though I didn't want to know the sex of my unborn babies, by the time it came to S's 20 week scan I could've spotted the meat and two veg at a hundred paces.

I can also assert there are certain advantages in parenting boys with their bits. The nappies are a lot less scary and those 'can't hold on 'til home' al fresco wees are so much easier. With girls you do your back in hovering her over gutters. With boys you send them to a tree to stand up and get on with it. And linguistically we're up on the girls here too. No need to angst about finding an acceptable word for boysie rude bits. Unless I'm a bit deluded I think it's OK to mention willies in public but I'm stumped as to what you call girls' privates out loud without blushing.

But admittedly mothering a trio of willies does have drawbacks. I wince every time I accidentally catch one in leg-hole pant elastic. And the fall-out round the loo from stand-up wee attempts could make a grown woman cry – not a pretty sight (or smell) at the end of a day. And the worst is yet to come. Before long they'll be … cringe … comparing sizes or holding wee-target practice and long distance peeing competitions. Can't wait.

In the meantime though they're still busy scratching their heads over why mummy 'han't got one' and other big questions in the great boy-girl divide. Like why do they have to endure the universal torture of regular short, back and sides while mummy's allowed to have long hair? Ditto, how come they need to frequently do battle with the nail trimmers while mummy can keep her talons long?

And while we're at it, how come boys have to wear trousers day in, day out, while mummy can choose between trousers OR skirts? And how often has it been said that pens and paint are for paper only (and most certainly NOT for walls, furniture or bodies) but she bafflingly gets away with daubing stuff on her face every day?

Ah, the manifold mysteries of womankind. Still, I wouldn't worry about it too much right now lads. It'll take you a lifetime to unravel the complexities of the fairer sex. Until then you can rest easy in the knowledge that you're not alone amongst your fellow men. After all, aren't blokes meant to think of their willies every seven minutes or so?

So on that note, I'll take a step back. Me a willy expert? Nothing but a loads of pants! If they've not already outstripped me, the boys soon will. This current fixation with their bits isn't just a passing fancy. It's simply the start, for each, of a lifelong relationship with man's best friend. And I think I'll leave them to it.

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