It may have been noted here once or twice before, but my son has a bit of a boobie obsession. In fact, I’m pretty sure it has rubbed off on me and that’s why I talk so much about them.
He sings odes to boobies, he makes me sing Rock a Bye Boobie, He yells BOOBS! at the top of his lungs, well, pretty much anywhere. He is a self proclaimed Boob Man.
Me: Gabe, what do you want for dinner?
Me: Seriously. Edmame? Carrots? Soup?
Gabe: BOOBIE HEAD FARTY PANTS!
Or in response to repeated fondling or using my chestal region as a pair of bongos -
Me: DUDE. Get OUT OF MY GRILL. Bang on your own boobies.
Gabe, lifting shirt to experiment: My boobies are liddwe. Yours are big. And Soft. BOOBIES!
So yeah. Dude is definitely a heterosexual. It’s gotten so bad that Mimi tells him, “You can’t talk about boobies here. That’s for home only.” We try, repeatedly, to quell this boob-session, so much so that timeouts have been enforced.
It’s hard to punish someone when they’re positively hilarious. None of the books told me this.
When we drive home in the evenings, I always ask him what he did, what he ate, if he was good, yada yada. We sing songs and talk about the world around us. Invariably, several of these inquiries are met with – you guessed it – BOOBIES. Last night the beltway was particularly congested and we were talking about the different cars on the road - dat’s a BIIIG tractor trailer! What’s dat truck say? Where’s dat big car going? Where’s dat car carrier taking all dose cars? Do you think those people in dat van are going to Target? – and I saw a white Civic with a bumper sticker that read, “I Love Boobies”
I couldn’t resist.
Me: GABE! Do you see that white car there? Do you see the bumper sticker? It says I Love Boobies!”
Gabe: I LOVE BOOBIES!!! HA HAHAHAHA!!
As we pass the car, Gabe bangs on the window and yells: Hey! HI! I love boobies too! BOOBIES!
Since we were in crawling traffic, this happened about 15 more times before we got to Reisterstown Road.
I said, “Listen buddy, Daddy and Mimi and I have all told you, but you cannot talk about boobies in front of other people. That’s private stuff. So when we get to my health doctor, you can’t say boobies. It may make the girls there uncomfortable. They may not think you’re very nice.”
I continued to reinforce this until we went inside, where bless him, that child was on his best behavior. He knows he gets to check his weight each week, too, and hold the shopping basket while I fill it up with the next week’s food, so he thinks the whole thing is a big adventure.
As we were leaving he said, “Hold me!”
So I picked him up to carry him across the parking lot and said, “You were a VERY good boy in there!”
He looked at me with a giant grin, put his hands on my cheeks, leaned in and whispered, “BOOBIES!”