Hero Worship?

M has been fascinated lately with human parts. You know the specific parts I am talking about, right? Also, seriously do you think there is better topic I could think of to write about today???

The other day he wanted to know about what human anatomy I had versus what he had. He asked if 'Mommy has a penis' and I said 'no honey I have a vagina'. Then he named off all the people he knew who have a penis and me with my vagina. He finally dropped the subject, or more likely I changed the subject...

Last evening as we were enjoying some fine home cooking (pizza delivered from heaven... er I mean the Pizza Express dude!) Matthew brought up the penis discussion again, randomly, without provocation. He said 'I have a penis and Mommy has a...a... GIRL PENIS!' K almost spit his pizza in my face. Then when he saw his father's laughter he knew he had the wrong words so he quickly covered for this faux pas by brightly saying 'no no girls have skippers.' Skippers, huh?! Fighting with all my might to keep a straight face I told him that girls have vagina's and boys have penises. He seemed satisfied by this but he also proceeded to name the parts of those us around the table. He was also curious about Santana's parts. Never a dull moment in our dinner conversation.

He has decided that my breasts are really nifty. He wants to know about my bra and why I wear one. He told me he "loved" my breasts the other day. How do you EVEN respond to that? "Thank you! I appreciate your hero worship of my chest, darling!"

He has taken to poking at them and wanting to see my bra. In fact, yesterday we were setting up the co sleeper bassinet finally and he got my bathing suit from the bathroom. He stated the suit was dry then proceeded to try to dress me in it. He stopped and said "Mommy where is the other part?" I told him there are only two parts to the suit but he persisted. "NO the other part..." Oh I said 'you mean the bra?' He smiled and wiggled around and said YES! I said 'well Mommy has a bra on NOW but she does not wear a bra with the bathing suit.' He traipsed off happy with this response.

Finally, by far the worst thing for me is that in public when he gets nervous he has decided that sticking his hands down my voluptuous cleavage (WHY are all maternity shirts SO low cut these days?!??!) (and also I just used the words voluptuous cleavage in reference to my boobs) is a good way to get over his nervousness.

I cannot WAIT to bring a wee nursing baby home. I can only imagine the discussions that will ensue from that experience for the next year.