Kids Say the Darndest Things...

Well, there have been several times in my life so far that my three-year old has embarrassed me in public. Most of the time it's when he's being loud in a resturant or throwing a little fit in a store. I get that panicked feeling and the "We gotta get outta here" look comes over me as I scarf down the remainder of my food or begin only getting the absolute necessities on the shopping list, leaving all other so-called indulgences for another time. Yes, even soap is an idulgence in those times. "Oh, we can just use body wash. We gots to get outta here!"

Tonight at Wal-Mart, Cale embarrassed me again. But, this time I must say the embarrassement went a little deeper. I had already been to Wal-Mart once today, and without the kids. You know that feeling. Strolling leisurely through the aisles, looking at things you never get a chance to look at. Like the makeup aisle. So many new things, since about 2008, probably the last time I got to peruse that aisle. Ahhhh, it's pure happiness. But then I ran off and left one of my sacks, the one containing the milk and the construction paper to make Cale's Valentine's box. So, that's how we ended up back at Wal-Mart this evening. As Cale and I were standing behind a man at the Customer Service desk, he began trying to lift my shirt. Cale, not the man. With lightning speed I pulled the shirt down. I'm not one to go around showing my belly off, especially after having two kids, if you know what I mean. There's a little more of it to show off, or keep under cover, these days.

I said, "Cale, stop!" Then, he started saying, "I want to touch...I want to touch..." He stuttered as if he was having trouble thinking of the word. Of course I thought he was wanting to touch my stomach since his hands were ice cold. Then, to my shock, dismay, and utter horror he said, "I want to touch your boobies." And to confirm my fear that someone may have heard (he said it in his yelling-even-though-I'm-right-next-to-you three year-old voice) the man in front of me gave a loud snicker. As my face burned, I told Cale we don't say that or do that. Then, he started saying, "Booby, booby, booby, booby" What a little punk. Again, the man in front of me laughed. I was horrified. As if that is something we do in our household. My gosh, I didn't even breastfeed so there should be no boob attachment. I'm sure that man thought I was some sort of weirdo. For the record, I'm not. Well, yes I am a little weird. But not in the creepy mother-son relationship kinda way. More of the 'I lick the topping off my pop-tart before I eat it' kinda way. I can't eat one around Carl. He just stares at me in disgust and then I can't even enjoy the darn thing.

Well, I have no idea where the "I want to touch...." came from. But, Cale doesn't quite understand that some body parts are better left unmentioned...or untouched. He's constantly got his hand down his pants and has absolutely no shame in running around naked throughout the house, trying to put his "stinky bottom" on Carl or I while chanting, "Smell my booty". Or poor defenseless Keaton. We stop him when we catch him, but many times it's too late. Sorry Keat.

I'm worried to think what Cale might do or say next. You really just never know with a three-year old. And I embarrass very easily, so this isn't good. The moment he catches on to that, I'm toast.