I like your bra mommy

Yes, my son stood up on his chair at Starbucks today and said very loudly, "Mommy, I like your bra. And I like your boobies."

After the initial shock, I had the good sense to simply say thank you (if I'd have told him not to say that he would have said it ten more times) at which point he went on to tell me that he liked my new red bag and my cell phone and my earrings. And that was the end of his Starbucks proclamations.

Where does he get this shit? I mean, really, I like your boobies? I guess that's a nice thing to say. A little weird though, no? And somewhat inappropriate coming from my son. And at Starbucks. And frankly they're not even that great anymore. Pretty droopy in fact after all that nursing. Although some of the Starbucks patrons would disagree. I got a few winks. Just kidding.

The other day, while I was taking his clothes off for his bath, he was completely naked and then did a little pantomime like he was trying to scratch his back so I asked what he was doing and he said he was taking off his bra. And truthfully, it didn't even phase me. Naturally he would take his bra off before getting in the tub.

So now I'm back to the question of whether or not my son should see me naked. He gets the concept of privacy so I could definitely go that route. Today he walked into the bathroom while I was on the toilet and when I got up he pointed to my "netherlands" and asked what's that. I just pulled up my pants and ignored him. I can just imagine our next Starbucks visit...

Mommy, I like your vagina!

No thanks.

Baby's Breath

It's official. My son is no longer a baby. He has morning breath. Maybe he's had it a while but I only just noticed the other day when he got up in my face while I was sleeping and whispered into my nose, I want some cereal. And I'm thinking, did you swallow a dirty sock or what?

They call that flower baby's breath for a reason because it is sweet and pure just like a baby's breath. My daughter gives kisses with mouth wide open and her tongue hanging out and I love it because she only has six little teeth nubs and no place for food to settle in and germinate. My son, and everyone else for the matter, has a mouth full of chompers and festering bacteria giving him the breath of a thousand camels when he wakes up. Well, it's not that bad. It's not like he eats garlic or onions much. Not if he can help it anyway.

You know how else I know he's growing up? He wants his privacy. Now when he goes poo poo I sit him down on his elmo potty (which sits on top of the toilet) and he asks me to shut the door until he's done so he can have "pwivacy." And so his sister doesn't crawl in and annoy him. That means that when I'm in the bathroom and he comes in I can tell him to leave because mommies also need "pwivacy".

So my little boy is growing up.
But finally some solitude on the toilet.

The Duckie Towel

I haven't been blogging lately and I can only blame it on my having gone back to work, albeit part time but work nonetheless, and literally having no time. Zero time. Which is best illustrated by the fact that for the last three days everyone in my family, including my husband, has been using the duckie hooded towel meant for my daughter with the little googly eyes and the orange feet hanging down. Why don't we have other towels? Fair question. And the truth is that we have plenty of towels but they are either in the washer, the dryer or folded in the guest room and I have not found the thirty seconds it takes to bring them into the bathroom so that we can dry off with normal sized towels. I mean that is RIDICULOUS. I walked into the bathroom and saw my husband patting dry his privates with the duckie beak and I thought, this can't be good.

And speaking of privates and privacy, the topic came up when my son asked to be by himself in his room the other day.

Him: I want to be by myself mommy.
Me: You want me to give you some privacy?
Him: Yes, I want some privacy. Gimme some privacy.
Me: You say, Mommy I'd like some privacy please.
Him: Mommy, I want some privacy please.
Me: Okay, I'll leave and give you some privacy.
Him: No, I want your privacy!
Me: Okay, I'm going.
Him: No, give me the privacy!
Me: Sweetie, privacy is when you are by yourself.
Him: No, give it to me. I want it.
Me: I can give it to you only if I leave.
Him: DON'T GO!!!! I WANT THE PRIVACY!!!! WAHHHH!!!
Me: Bubba (term of endearment), privacy isn't something you can hold or eat. It's not a toy. It's just what you get when you're alone. Why am I explaining this? I should just get him a toy and call it privacy and be done

This conversation continued along the same vein for about a half hour until I finally said, do you want some chocolate milk instead? And he said yes.

We'll have to revisit privacy. Maybe when there are enough towels to go around.