I Got the Moves, Baby

They say a little boy’s first love is his mother.

Not true in our case. My son fell in love with the blonde nurse in the hospital seconds after he was born. And then he fell for my blonde co-worker. Oh, and then there’s Ingrid, his adorable blonde classmate.

I’m a brunette in case you forgot.

But I’m right up there in his affections.

Or at least parts of me are.

Last night Quinn and I were playing his version of volleyball. He stands on one side of the room, I sit on my ass about 6 feet away. He tells me I’m “the net” and I toss a rubber ball to him. He tries to hit it back. I catch it and “serve” it to him. This goes on until he says he wants to be “the net” and switches sides with me. (I’m still not sure what it means to be “the net” as it appears to be very similar to “not being the net” and also nothing like a real net.)

I don’t suck at this game and it’s one of the few non-violent games he’s into lately so I readily play whenever he asks. Plus I enjoy sitting down.

Last night while tossing the old rubber ball back and forth we had this conversation:

QUINN: You’ve got some moves!

ME: (Grateful he noticed!) You like my moves? Why thank you!

QUINN: No, your boobs! I like your boobs!

ME: Oh. Umm.

QUINN: I’M GOING TO MARRY THOSE BOOBS!

ME: Oh my god… BART!

People, this is a kid who was so breast-feeding challenged he literally cried at the site of my boobs. And now he wants to marry them? Umm, no. They have feelings, kid. They remember. Show some remorse for goodness sake.

I can not take my future. Can’t we go back to the “penis and butthole” days? (Great name for a tavern, no? Or maybe some buddy cops?)

If you’re looking for me I’ll be the one wearing 4 sports bras and a suit of armor.

I feel ya, Mrs. Ebert.
I feel ya, Mrs. Ebert.
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