Tonight I’m snuggling w/The Boy before bed, and it’s hot, so I’m wearing a tank top. His arm must have brushed against my underarm, because suddenly, he says, “What was that?”
I inspected, and it’s not that bad – I think I just didn’t shave this morning. I explain that it’s where I need to shave under my arms and he looks completely astonished.
“You have hair under there?”
I am slightly baffled as to why this is shocking to him, do the “we are mammals” talk, and We talked about Daddy’s whiskers and how he’ll have them on his face someday.
I told him how if I didn’t shave, it would look like Daddy’s armpits.
I wish I had a picture of his face—completely repulsed and slightly heartbroken. It’s not like he has trouble finding fault w/me, but I think it goes against the Mommy smooth skin for cuddling thing.
His exact words, “That is totally disgusting.”
Then when I went back in there a little later, he said, “Mom, next time you come in my bed, could you wear a shirt? That was gross.”
I complain all the time about how he’s too attached to me, so maybe I should throw away my razor.
But I was a little sad to see him think I was totally disgusting.
Wait until holding his hand or kissing him goodbye falls in that same category.
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