Boy Mom

Before I became a "boy mom" I used to think there wasn't much difference between boys and girls. BOY, oh BOY was I wrong.

While I was pregnant, I craved KFC with lots of gravy. I knew right then and there (well before any ultrasound could confirm) that I was having a boy. A girl would simply NOT do that to her mother.

Last week, Ben was riding in the van after yoga class (his, not mine):
B: Mommy, which teacher is Miss Lindsay?
H: What?
B: Mommy. At "yoda". Which one is Miss Lindsay?
H: She had on the yellow shirt.
B: (dreamy look in his eyes) Oh. Miss Lindsay with the boobs.
H: What?
B: Jeez, Mom. Not BIG ones. Just boobs like this... (he put his hand under his shirt and pushed it out just a small amount... you know... to make "not big ones".) What's the other teacher?
H: Trina?
B: Yes. Trina has the BIIIIIGGGG boobs.

Saturday at lunch, after he ate a huge bag of Dorito's:
B: Hey, Mommy.. smell my tongue.