Breast Man

I never thought I'd need a set of those electric resuscitation paddles in my house. I thought that fire extinguishers would cover most household safety emergencies. Who knew?

Really, I had been coasting through one of those blessed quiet periods of parenting, where one tends to get smug and superior about one's skills. It's usually right about then that a bolt of lightning or some such will kindly bring you back to the real world. Like my five-year-old son announcing yesterday "Mom, I love Ms. J_. She has great knockers!"

Excuse me?

That's when those electric paddles might have come in handy.

"Knockers?" Where did he get THAT one?
Knockers!

And then I watched myself, as if from above in an out-of-body-experience, having a bona-fide actual straight-faced discussion with my five-year-old son about the nuances of boobs. Breasts, I mean. (But NOT, for God's sake "knockers.")

They're actually called "breasts" sweetie. That's the NICE word for them. Breasts. B - R - E - A - S - T - S. I'm sure Ms. J_ knows she has nice ones, but unless you know somebody really really well, you should stick to complementing her clothes or hair.

I considered for a minute taking the conveniently simple, logical, easy to grasp, black-and-white-to-the-likes-of-a-five-year-old stand that one should have actually SEEN the breasts in question before one is qualified, nay PRIVILEDGED to pass verbal judgment one way or the other. But I abandoned that path (just in time, I might add) for fear he might actually ASK if he could see them, whereupon we would probably have an expulsion nightmare on our hands. Best to stick to avoiding sexual harassment suits, whenever possible.

Honey, girls don't really like it if you talk about their breasts. It makes them a little embarrassed. It's sort of like how boys don't like to talk about their, um, penises all the time.

But me and A_ talk about penises all the time.

Medic!

But not in front of girls. Right? (Help me out here, God.)

NO! Eew!

(ThankYouGodThankYouGodThankYouGod) But I know you like Ms. J_ a lot, and that's okay. You just have to pick APPROPRIATE things to say to her, so she won't get embarrassed. Like you can say that her dress is pretty (that's okay, right? I'm not exactly up to date on the rules of the witch-hunt.) Or you can say she has "happy eyes." Girls like that sort of thing.

Great, I'm teaching my son how to flirt. With a 21-year-old married woman, no less. Where is a big old flat rock to crawl under when you need one?

I want to marry Ms. J_.

This smarts, but is technically easier to handle since I recently had a similar conversation with my 3-year-old about who you're not allowed to marry. Like cats, stuffed animals, Grandma, or (here's my convenient escape clause) people who are already married.

Ms. J_ is already married. I'm sorry, you must be very disappointed. (What am I? Chopped liver? You wanted to marry ME up till this J_ vixen came along!)

(Alas, Undaunted) Will you write a note for me? "Dear Ms. J_, I love you. You have nice knock… breas… TEETH!"

Got it. Teeth. Anything else? (I can't believe I'm writing my son's first love note FOR him. This wasn't in any of the books.)

"Please come and babysit me so I can show you my etchings."

Did you say ETCHINGS?!?

No! Dead things. The beetle skeletons.

Oh. Phew. Yup, that ought to impress her. Why don't you sign it yourself?

Maybe I should drag out those fire extinguishers after all.