Juggs, Boobies and Bosom

My son has become obsessed with my boobs. He wants to look touch and talk about them all the time. I have no idea why. I know I am one sexy mama but really this is nuts.

When he was younger he was a non discriminate boob feeler. He would toddle around and suddenly it was like someone turned on a large magnet. His little hand would fly across the room making a B line for the closet pair of boobies he could find. It was embarrassing but since he was so cute he'd get giggles and some awws. Luckily this habit stopped around two when the sticky finger factor began to loose its charm.

Or so I thought.

Now being with him is like being on a date in high school. I am constantly fending off the roaming hand. We are sitting down watching TV he snuggle up he gets closer and closer until I feel a little hand slowly worming its way down my shirt. I pull his hand out. I talk to him about boundaries he nods looks serious and then a few minutes later I feel that cold little hand again stealing down my top.

The conversations are also a little uncomfortable. We were walking down the street and he said Lets run Mommy. Oh wait you cant your boobies are too big. Or as he shouted out in Wallgreens the other day. Mommy I love your boobies!

Thanks babe.

I hope this is not setting the tone for the rest of his life. I can imagine him running up the tab on magazines like jugs and big boobie web sites. I'm sure he'll be a regular at Hooters. But the ones I feel really sorry for are his future girlfriends. They'll need to wear steal tops and spikes if they want to go out with my son and his roaming hands.

One things for certain though I'm sure they'll be stacked.

Late night Debauchery and Sausages

I woke up this morning and discovered my bra smelled a lot like an Italian sausage? Obviously I was disturbed. I thought it best to retrace my steps to see how and when this occured.

Well I did go to a party last night. I can't remember the last time I went to a party with real grown ups who talked about real grown up things like...well I can't remember what grown ups talk about but I do know it didn't involve Elmo or Thomas the Tank Engine. I was nervous about going. It was a dinner party and I wasn't sure if I could refrain from cutting other peoples food and wiping peoples faces. Plus my hubby was staying home to "babysit" so I was on my own.

I got to the party after a surprisingly calm subway ride (no frantic searching for potties in the underground) and felt a little rusty doing the whole conversing thing. I kept catching myself moving glasses away from the corners of tables and hiding matches lest anyone play with them and set the house on fire. The dinner was pasta with fresh spicy Italian sausage (WAIT A MINUTE!!). I had a glass of wine (maybe two) while the hostess cooked. I ended up feeling a little cooked myself. By the time the food was done I was regaling the party goers with tales about my three day labor with little S and the wonders of epidurals. I looked at my watch and it was 9:30 AT NIGHT!!!!! I don't remember the last time I was awake and partying so late! Yes I am a party animal! Watch out!

However as I look back on this crazy night of 2 glasses of wine, going to bed at 10pm debauchery and pasta I have no recollection of dancing on any tables with a sausage (that sounds bad doesn't it?) and I certainly have no recollection of stuffing any sausages in my bra.

I guess its a mystery best left unsolved.