Whenever I Feel Like Running Out into Busy Traffic...

...A compulsion I‘ve had since childhood, a little voice from below always saves me from myself…

Boy: Mommy, I like the way you smell.

Me: Thank you, sweetheart!

Boy: Yeah, you smell better than Daddy.

Me: I do?

Boy: Uh huh. Daddy smells like bugs, but you smell pretty.

Me: Daddy doesn’t smell like bugs -- he smells like oatmeal.

Boy: Well, I think boys smell terrible, and girls smell good! Girls smell yummy! ***Boy rubs tummy, licks his lips, and goes “mmmm yuuuuum“***

Me, horrified and appalled, yet enchanted: You will not be dating until you reach the age of twenty-five, son.

Boy, finger up nose: Mommy, can I have a waffle with sip [syrup]?