For the first 6 months of my son's life, I didn't shower without an audience. When I actually remembered to shower, that is. It was quite a treat when he got big enough to entertain himself in the Exersaucer or on the floor of his room so I could shave my legs with some privacy. It was a sweet taste of freedom that, like most, did not last long enough.
Munchkin went totally mobile quite a while ago but it's only very recently that he went completely off-the-fucking-wall daredevil. And so, he's right back in the bathroom with me when I shower
so he can't rappel down the side of the house in the time it takes to shampoo. Neither of us is really happy with this arrangement but we're making do.
Yesterday, after stepping out of the shower, Munchkin walked right up to me with his arms up, like he wanted to be picked up. I told him, "One sec, baby, I'm all wet." But he kept coming so I bent down to see what was up. And it was then that it occurred. I still can't believe it. The boy took hold of my boobs -- one in each hand -- and did a double-squeeze like he was testing the fucking Charmin.
Before I even had time to react, he sort of shrugged with boredom and went back to his toys on the floor. I'm not sure whether to be relieved or hurt that my boobs no longer hold any appeal. Maybe a little of both.
This kid is definitely his father's son.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment