Boobs, in the past, have been a popular topic of conversation around our house.
And, yes we do call them boobs or boobies. I have totally been the bad mom that does not teach her children correct terms for their anatomy. And keep your comments to yourself since, yes, it has come back to bite me in the butt. But that's a story for another post.
Jack was 3 and a half when I was pregnant with Charlie and fascinated with my growing belly and the boobs that would be feeding the cause of the growing belly.
Frequently we would have conversations about who has boobs, when they get boobs, and the purpose of boobs.
freaked me out generated a need for privacy to be taught at our house. I banned Jack from the bathroom whenever anything personal was taking place and we had many discussions about why privacy is important.
However, while I didn't have to deal with Jack staring at me, or rather, my boobs, whenever I was getting dressed anymore, our discussions on privacy had little impact on curbing the boob obsession.
One day I was standing in the kitchen while Jack and Melody were running outside on the deck. It was spring and fairly warm outside so they were shirtless.
"Mom! Come quick!" shouted Jack.
I ran outside to see him pointing at sweet, little Melody, sitting down, plump with all those rolls one year olds still have. You know those rolls. Where their wrists look like they had little rubber bands around them and their legs, tummy, and chest are still rolly polly.
Do you see where I'm going with this?
"Look at Melody! I think she's getting her boobies!"