The other night, while eating dinner, little man finished his plate of pasta and hopped down from the table. Little man was in a particularly social mood and even though daddy and I were still eating, little man came over to my side of the table to continue our "What did you do today?" conversation.
Little man pointed at my shirt. I had on a purple sweater with a white camisole underneath.
"Mommy what is that?" Little man asked as he pointed to my sweater.
"That's my shirt," I said.
"No, momma, what's that?" Little man asked as he again pointed at my shirt.
"Oh, that's another shirt," I said. "Mommy has on two shirts today."
"No, momma, what is that?" Little man asked for the third time.
I thought perhaps I had some pasta sauce on my shirt or a piece of lint. I looked down to where little man was pointing.
"What are those ... mountains?" Little man asked.
As I looked down, I realized what exactly little man was pointing at. He had just become increasingly aware of the different physiques of men and women.
I was not prepared to have the boys vs. girls conversation this early. My mind raced trying to find something to say.
My husband, on the other hand, was no help. He was too busy rolling on the floor laughing.
I finally uttered the only thing I could think of:
"Mommy's have mountains," I answered, trying desperately not to laugh and praying it was enough.
Please, God. No. More. Questions.
"Oh, OK," little man said. He than ran off to play.
In complete horror, humor and shock I watched my little man run off to the living room to play, still not quite sure of exactly what just happened, but ever grateful that more questions did not follow.
Daddy, on the other hand, was a different story.
"At least he called them mountains," he said.
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