Woke the little man this morning with a kiss and a back scratch.
The usual: "up, down, over" directions started long before all the cobwebs were cleared.
Scratch. Direct. Rub.
"No, Mom! Scratch!" Oops. Pardon me, sir.
More directions: "down, down, down". Down to the perfect little boy bottom covered in tighty whities.
"I am NOT scratching your bottom, mister!" as I poked it with my finger.
Giggling, he said, "That's not my botttom, Mama, those are my bottom boobs!"
No, that's not a word we normally use. I've heard him say it before referring to my, um...lady parts....and have corrected him immediately, but this morning I didn't. I laughed.
I'm probably gonna regret that.