Anatomically Correct

I realize that in writing this post, I run the risk of offending several people by the anatomically correct terms I am about to use. Until I became a mommy, I was highly bothered by these terms. Now that we have a little boy to raise, we have decided not to be cutesy with words to label his body parts. We just rip off the band aids and call each and every body part what they are when asked by Mr. Curiosity. So, now that I laid out that disclaimer, let my most embarrassing Mommy story to date begin.....

Garrett and I were at Target on Wednesday. Shocker, I know. We were doing our usual weekly grocery shopping which tends to fill up the whole buggy. Yes. We call it a buggy. I have been informed this is weird. At the beginning of each trip, Garrett rides in the buggy and eats a snack. As we approach the end of our trip, he has to get out to make room for the goods. And, at the VERY end of the trip, the buggy is really heavy and hard to push. And Garrett likes to think he is super strong and can push it himself to help dear old mom out. His newest trick is to let me hold onto the handle and push the buggy while he gets behind me and typically pushes on my lower back. It's all very technical you see. We have this technique down cold.

And pass out cold was almost what I did this week when we were in the midst of our little routine. You see, this week, for some strange reason, Garrett had his hands on my bum. One little hand on each cheek. The hands were really at the top of each cheek and he's a little guy and has no clue it's not appropriate to touch someones bum. I should have said something about that but didn't as I was really ready to get to the check-out and go home. Instead, this is how the event played out:

G: Mommy, I am helping you poosh this buggy. It is so heavy, Mommy.

M: Thanks, buddy. You are a great helper.

-Now mind you, this is all in an almost shouting voice as T-store was WAY crowded-

G: Mommy, I like pooshing you. Mommy, I hold onto you and poosh.

M: Yup. Thanks, buddy.

G: Mommy, are these your testicles?

M: (Insert long, long pause here. Maybe he'll stop talking and no one really heard his shouting T word).

G: Mommy, I said, are these your testicles? (In a screaming voice)

M: (Oh, dear Lord. What do I say? And must ALL of these people continue to stare at me?) No, buddy. That is Mommy's bottom.

G: Oh, your bottom.

And that was the end of that. Why, oh why, did someone, say the lady teaching Parenting 101 at the hospital, prepare us for this stuff? And why, oh why, did I have to label that portion of his body so anatomically correct when he first asked? I must say that Garrett is building my character. Visit by visit to Target store. I might need to go there when Daddy is home to watch him.