Whenever I Feel Like Running Out into Busy Traffic......A compulsion I‘ve had since childhood, a little voice from below always saves me from myself…
Boy: Mommy, I like the way you smell.
Me: Thank you, sweetheart!
Boy: Yeah, you smell better than Daddy.
Me: I do?
Boy: Uh huh. Daddy smells like bugs, but you smell pretty.
Me: Daddy doesn’t smell like bugs -- he smells like oatmeal.
Boy: Well, I think boys smell terrible, and girls smell good! Girls smell yummy! ***Boy rubs tummy, licks his lips, and goes “mmmm yuuuuum“***
Me, horrified and appalled, yet enchanted: You will not be dating until you reach the age of twenty-five, son.
Boy, finger up nose: Mommy, can I have a waffle with sip [syrup]?