I’ve had to say thing like this, out loud.
“Hey, get your penis off the table.”
“Keep your penis in your pants.”
“Yes, Oliver, those are balls.”
“Why are you pinching that?”
Every morning when he wakes up and then comes in to get me out of bed by removing all my blankets and getting in my face with his morning breath – he says “HI MORNING!!” and then smiles. I see his dimples, curse his alarm clock likeness and wait for the very next words out of his mouth.
“Mommy, I hungy.”
So far this morning I’ve made him 3 eggs, sausage, and a bowl of cereal for breakfast and we’re not done. That was all before 8 am.
I now understand the statement “He’ll eat us out of house and home” because it’s true.
I approach his curiosity towards my chest a little differently than I do of my daughters. She just wants to know when she gets them, he wants to grab them and yell BOOOOOBIES! Then giggle.
And he’s stealth. All of a sudden I’m putting him to bed and the next thing I know there is an invasive little hand traveling down the neck of my shirt. Like a ninja.
And no, Son, mommy’s penis didn’t fall off and I don’t need a tampon to make it all better, but thank you for offering … every single day.