Children have a habit of saying whatever is on their mind. No matter what it is. Last week we were at a baseball game and my daughter spotted a man with a fake arm, a metal hook arm. She was so excited. She stood up on the bleachers, pointed to him, and shouted for her brother. "LOOK! It's a pirate! A PIRATE!"
I never really know how to react during those times. I shushed her and then tried to ignore her. But clearly he knows that he has a hook arm. And my daughter can't be the first child who has yelled something like this. But I still couldn't help but wish for a hole to open up in the ground beneath the bleachers and swallow me.
This past weekend, in the dressing room at my local department store, my daughter suddenly says, in a voice so loud that it carries to the neighboring town: "Why does your body look like that?"
"Uh, like what?" I ask, cringing inside.
"Your tummy is all blob-a-lee!" And from her tone I gather that "blob-a-lee" is not good.
"Um, maybe because I had you in there and you stretched my tummy all out," I say.
That satisfies her for a few minutes. As we're getting ready to exit the dressing room, she proclaims, "When I grow up I don't want a hairy butt like you."
"I don't have a hairy butt," I protest.
"Yes, you do have a hairy butt."
"Uh, NO I DO NOT HAVE A HAIRY BUTT!" Said loudly for the benefit of all the other patrons in the bathroom.
But really, does it matter? Not matter how much I protested, no one would believe it. You know that all the other people were trying to hurry up and finish so they could get a good look at the woman with the hairy butt.
And I bet all of you reading are wondering, too. I'll say it one last time: "I do NOT have a hairy butt."