Mommy Got Boobs

I debated blogging about this, truly I did. But, I decided that I really did think it was funny, in retrospect...

Lately, Lana has been obsessed with breasts. OBSESSED. Who has them, who doesn't have them, and why they do or do not have them.

I'm not sure when the obsession began. She likes to come and keep me company if I am taking a bubble bath. At first, I resented this intrusion into what is, for me, SACRED PRIVATE TIME. However, it then occurred to me that I used to have some of my best talks with MY mom while she was taking a bubble bath and I was keeping her company. Also, Lana will happily sit for 10 to 15 minutes with one of her plastic tub-toy-cups and pour water down my back repeatedly. Really. It's like a spa treatment. Probably, there are people out there who would pay good money to have someone pour warm water over their back, over and over, while they are having a bubble bath. So, I've found I don't necessarily mind the company.

So, I believe the first time the subject she broached the subject, she was sitting on the side of the tub. "Mommy?" she asked. "Mommy, what those?"

I debated how to answer this question. "Breasts" seemed like too formal an answer for a child who is only 4 and whose English vocabulary is still limited. I sighed. "Boobs," I said. And immediately regretted it. And continue to regret it to this day...because she LOVES the word "boobs" and doesn't want to replace it with any other word.

She recently picked up a bra out of the clean laundry that Husband was folding. She wrapped it around herself. Honestly, I wish I had had a camera at that moment, because it looked absurdly comical. It was electric orange, for one thing, and the child only weighs 35 pounds soaking wet, so, to say it was gigantic on her is an understatement. "Look, Mommy. Lana need this. Lana need boobs."

"Lana doesn't need that yet." I said.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Lana."

"Where Lana boobs?"

I sigh. (See, I sigh a lot with this child.)

"When Lana is a big girl, Lana will have boobs."

"Lana need boobs NOW, Mommy."

Sorry baby. Not gonna happen.

"Where Daddy boobs?"

"Daddy is a boy. Boys don't have boobs." (The Mansierre or The Bro of Seinfeld fame notwithstanding, of course).

"Gabriel no have boobs?"

"That's right. Gabriel is a boy, too. Boys don't have boobs."

I thought perhaps we had moved beyond the "boobs" obsession, because she didn't bring it up again for a few days. Until Saturday, when we were in the CEREAL AISLE at a MAJOR GROCERY STORE CHAIN. Did I mention it was SATURDAY? When the entire population of this city is grocery shopping?

I was wearing a v-neck t-shirt, and I picked her up to put her in the cart, cause she was whining about walking. From her vantage point in the cart, Lana snaked her fingers into my shirt and stuffed her head inside, and then she peeked back out (still pulling on my shirt and thus exposing far more of my body than I really care to think about) and announced, with happy excitement, to everyone on the cereal aisle, "MOMMY GOT BOOBS!!"

Twelve shades of red later, I decided to only let Husband push the cart.

LM