This morning my three-year-old Joshua and I were sitting on the couch. I was doing my makeup and he was playing with the fat on my upper left arm. Just why was he doing that? I can only guess it is because I am and have always been his favorite toy, jungle gym, and entertainment center.
As I applied foundation, he squeezed some of my arm fat between his hands. “Look Mommy! Your arm looks like private parts!” Hmm, just the words every mother longs to hear her son say. I looked over to see what shape he could possibly be creating with my cellulite when he stopped doing it. Perhaps it was the look on my face that made him drop the fat, but I didn’t get a look. But somehow my jiggle reminded him of some type of nudey parts. Greeeeeaaaat. Here’s the ensuing conversation.
Joshua: I’m going to tell Pop! (My father-in-law, who we are going to see tonight.)
Me: No, honey, it’s not nice to talk about private parts. We only talk about them with Mommy or Daddy. (Translation:Please for the love of God do NOT tell my father-in-law that my arm looks like private parts, or anything else that might cause him to call children’s services.)
Joshua: Right. I can tell Mommy or Daddy. Or Pop.
Me: No, honey, NOT Pop.
Joshua: Ok.
I have to stop writing now, so I can go get my 3 lb. hand weights and get these vagina arms into a more arm-like shape!! Apparently blogging is not giving them the workout they need!
Story: When Judy was about five years old, a good friend of mine…a young mother life myself…and I had a discussion about sex education. I claimed that parent’s should teach to the level of development and then only what a child needs to know. She, a “modern” mother, told me that she had already told her son and daughter (a year younger than Judy) all the facts of life, even how babies were conceived. I was concerned about her statement…”I will not have my children inhibited by any prudery.” Not a month later, she rushed over to my house in total disarray and upset. She had found her son…8 years old…in the presence of his sister…4 years old…showing her how babies are conceived by practical demonstration with another friends daughter of similar ages. When asked, “What are you doing?” He said, “I was just showing the girls what you told me about sex.” Well…needless to say, she ranted and paced my livingroom floor for an hour, concluding every sentence with…”Inhibit! Inhibit!”…
Yes…not by prudery, but by wisdom.
I’m now motivated to hit the gym… in fear that I may also be sporting some arms resembling ‘private parts!’
wow I couldn’t even imagine what I would have said…. thank GOD I am skinny
NO OFFENCE
Too funny of a story. Thanks for having the guts to share. My 2 year old announced to me one day that I had a gwina and daddy has a weiner while I was on the phone with my male boss. Oh the horror, thank goodness he had kids too.
Seems likes it not just bingo wings we have to worry about 🙂
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OMG!! I would have literally cried if that happened to me. I’m very sensitive. 😀
/CoFL
Hilarious. Because it wasn’t me, of course. At least not this time!
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Probably the best way to get a kid to tell Pop would be to say, “Don’t tell Pop.” Cute story.
Jenny,
Had to comment on your X rated Arm Fat blog. First and foremost, your Mother said that you wanted to hear from someone young…so since I fit the bill! Here goes…
Potty training and unsolicited x-rated comments for one’s offspring are usually at the most inopportune moments and always, yes, always in front of the least appreciative audience…
It was Christmas time in Tampa, we were on our way to O-town and stopped to shop, eat, and of course hit a couple of bathrooms….Your cousin,Donovan was in the early stages of Potty training at the time. After he finished peeing, I turned him around to pull his pants up. He looked over my shoulder behind me where a Hillsborough County Deputy was taking a leak at the urinal…and said…”Look Daddy, that man has a big penis.” I of course nearly fainted, but the cop said…”Wouldn’t you know, the first time I hear that, it’s from a 3 year old kid.” I simply exited the place as quickly as possible.
Ugh! Well, if it makes you feel any less horrified, my children coined the term fatpies about my sides.
ROFL!!
My son, at about age 5-ish was lying in bed with me in the early morning (our Weekend ritual – buys me a little more :rest: time). Well, he discovered that the my arms have lots of soft flab on them, too. He, very excitedly said “Oh, Mumma, your arms are like play-doh! So soft! I love them!” — uhm, okay, thank you. Can we please change the subject now?