He still Really likes that

My baby turned 9 years old over the weekend. Too big. Too soon.
He had a camp out this weekend with Cub Scouts and came home tired. He fell asleep on the couch with, of course, his hand in his pants.
It reminded me of this story.
When he was just a baby he was at one of his 'well-check' appointments and the doctor was giving him the once over.
I was rambling about whatever, as I do when I am nervous, or forced into a small space with another person.
Dr. Dickey (real name) was checking the boys privates and I happened to say, "He really likes the bath."
What Dr. Dickey heard was, "He really likes That."
He launched into this speech about how boys will be boys. Once they find their penis they don't ever want to let go. I should just be prepared for a life of grape-groping.
Huh? What? It took me a minute to figure out the miscommunication. By that time he had rambled so long about my son fondling himself for years to come, it would have been more embarrassing to correct him.
I just went with it. Listened as the good doctor told me it was normal for my son to play with himself. Super.
I went home and told my husband that our son's permanent medical record was now flagged with a big red "PERVERT" stamp.
Happy birthday my sweet boy. May you have many happy years ahead of you.