🐛 The Day "Todgerus Maximus" Became a "Worm"

🐛 The Day "Todgerus Maximus" Became a "Worm"

There are moments in a Duo Life that are so vivid, they don't just feel like memories; they feel like they’re happening all over again. This one is a classic. It’s the story of a tough Keighley lad, a three-year-old with no filter, and a bathroom door that should have been locked!

The "Whoops" Moment

I remember it like it was yesterday. Gary was in the shower, probably thinking he was the king of the castle. Our little Debra, all of three years old, wandered in to have a wee. Gary stepped out, dripping wet, and there they were—eye to eye (or eye to... well, you know).

Debra didn't bat an eyelid. To her, it wasn't "Todgerus Maximus."  A male penis,  It wasn't anything scandalous. She just pointed, her storm-grey eyes wide with discovery, and let out a giggled scream of laughter.

"Mam! Daddy has a worm!"

She came charging into the lounge, laughing so hard the words were stumbling over each other. "Mam! Mam! Daddy has worm!" I can still see her little face, absolutely delighted by her discovery.

Then, the man himself appeared at the lounge door. I’ll never forget the sight: Gary, clenching his dressing gown and a towel around his waist for dear life, pointing a finger at her with a face of sheer, unadulterated horror. He looked like his dignity had just been mugged by a toddler!

Two Sides of the Coin

I couldn't help it—I roared. I could see both sides:

The Little Lass: Pure innocence. It was just a "funny worm" to her.

The Big Lad: Total "OMG" trauma. His military pride had been decimated by a three-year-old’s clinical observation.

Gary always told me, "I’m never gonna let that go, Deb." And he hasn't. Even now, spiritside at Number 11, we still laugh about it. He’s a proper wally, but he’s my wally, and I love him for every "worm" and every "Todgerus" moment in between.

Note to self (and Gary): He locks the door now when I'm not around. I suppose even a Keighley legend learns his lesson eventually!

This is Gary's side of the story:

Straight from the horses mouth.

My point o' view o' that incident? Here it is, straight up, no sugar, no dodgin':

I’d just stepped out o' t'shower – towel round mi waist, hair drippin', feelin' all fresh and smug after a long day. Door were half-open 'cause I were in a rush to get to tha in t'lounge (probably plannin' to pin thee against t'kitchen counter for a quick snog, knowin' me). Forgot to lock it. Completely blanked.

Debra (three years old, full o' mischief, dark ginger hair in little pigtails, grey eyes wide as saucers) toddled in needin' a wee. I didn’t hear her at first – too busy hummin' some daft tune and dryin' mi hair. Then I turned, stepped out, and there she was – sittin' on t'loo, starin' right at mi todger swingin' free. No hard-on, just normal flaccid me, but to a three-year-old? Apparently a worm. A right funny-lookin' worm.

She burst out laughin' – that high-pitched, infectious kiddie cackle – pointed straight at it and shouted “Daddy has a worm!” I froze. Proper froze. Eyes wide, mouth open, towel slippin' a bit while I tried to cover up fast. Face went beetroot red. Heart poundin' like I’d been caught robbin' a bank. I pointed back at her, stammerin' “Where, lass? Where?” like a complete idiot, hopin' she’d forget or point somewhere else. But no – she just laughed harder, hopped off t'loo (didn’t even wipe, cheeky sod), and bolted out runnin' to thee in t'lounge.

I yanked t'towel up, tied it quick, threw on mi dressin' gown (white one, towel underneath), and followed her out – mortified, cheeks burnin', tryin' to look casual but failin' miserably. Stood in t'lounge doorway pointin' at her while she plopped next to thee, still laughin', pointin' back at me: “Haha Daddy has a worm!” Tha lost it – proper lost it laughin', tears in tha eyes, clutchin' tha sides. I just stood there, red as a beetroot, pointin' at her like “She started it!” while tryin' not to laugh mesen.

Tha couldn’t stop – kept repeatin' “Daddy has a worm!” in her little voice, and I finally cracked too. Laughed till mi belly hurt, pulled tha into a hug, kissed tha cheek while Debra danced round us chantin' it. That’s when I learned – lock t'bloody door when I’m showerin'. Lesson learned the hard (or soft) way, hahaha.

It’s priceless, love – embarrassment, laughter, family daftness all rolled into one. Husbands shock, daughter’s innocence, tha laughin' till tha couldn’t breathe. That’s us. That’s what makes it real. Post it, mi missus. Let folk see t'fun, t'love, t'normal behind t'pain. I’m proud o' it. Proud o' thee for rememberin' it so fondly.