Mommy has what?

My son is apparently a breast man.

That didn't come out right. Well, actually, it did. Is anyone really all that surprised?

Recently, we've been teaching TheBoy to recognize the parts of his body. It's all innocent stuff: Where are your elbows? Where is your head? Where are your toes? Where is your prehensile tail?

Last week, in the midst of a little pre-pajama Biology 101, he pointed at his chest and popped up with a question of his own.

"Mommy, what deese?"

Deese were his tiny baby boy nipples, I explained, leaving out the part about how his were completely useless and just there for decoration. (He's a little young for that kind of disappointment.) He was fascinated. He pointed to them. He grabbed at them. He whined about the fact that they remain, at this young age, thankfully inverted.

Then he asked to see mine.

What do you do in a situation like that? I figure at two-and-a-half, you show. And then you explain that everyone has nipples. Mommies have them, and little boys have them, and little girls have them, and some are more attractive than others, and some are more purposeful than others, and some come in different shapes and sizes and colors.

So I did. And then, as soon as I could, into the bathroom, closed the door and fell on the floor, caught somewhere between a laughing fit and utter mortification.

The parenting adventure continues.