Last night I laid in bed with the boy like I always do, shooting the shit, making him laugh, making up stories...
Ten minutes later the wife hopped in bed to say good night. One minute later the daughter jumped in too.
For the next 10 minutes “boobs” were focus of this unique impromptu family gathering. And here’s how it went:
Daughter: “Grayson, you remember the story about you pooping and getting a birthday cake?”
Me: “You mean when we promised brother we’d give him a whole cake if he ever pooped in the toilet instead of his diaper?”
Wife: “And he did!”
Daughter: “Why didn’t I get any of that cake daddy?!!”
Me: “You did. Trust me…you were a baby, mommy chowed down on that cake and you got it through mommy’s milk!”
Son: “Hahaha you drank birthday cake through mommy’s boobies!! Haha”
Me: “Umm soo did you chief. For 13 months you drank from mom’s boob.”
Son: “NO I DIDN’T!!!”
Daughter: “Haha Grayson drank mommy’s boobie!”
Wife: “So did you dear…for six months you drank from my boobies.”
Son: “Yeah!!!!! See Macy…haha…you drank on mommy’s boobs, too!”
Daughter: “Yeah, but I got birthday cake!”
Son: “Daddy did you get any birthday cake through mommy’s boobies?”
Despite my natural desire to want to answer the question with exaggerated stories surrounding the glories breasts of my wife, I (for once) looked at my wife and reacted accordingly to her “say one word and I’ll cut you” glare.
Me: “No son…I have never, nor will I ever have cake from mommy’s boobies.”
Wife: “That was one of the most painful things you’ve ever done wasn’t it?”
Me: “You have no idea. I need to be alone for a while.”
Wife: “Just make sure you clean-up afterwards.”
Son: “Why does daddy need to be alone mommy?”
Wife: “Your daddy really really LOVES birthday cake and talking about it really made him want some.”
Daughter: “Do you have birthday cake in your boobies right now mommy?”
Wife: “No dear, mommy’s boobies have all dried up and are purely ornamental at this point.”
Son: “Your boobs are like ornaments on a tree?”
Wife: “Ummm…yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it.”
Son: “You’ve got big ornaments mommy.”
Wife: “OK…and with that let’s go to bed kids!!”
