|pic from victoriassecret.com|
"Hey! Nice butt!"
Amused, I turned around slowly, faced my son in the mall corridor, and blushed. "Ummmm, thanks Ethan? That makes mom feel good." I was a bit uncomfortable with the compliment, but I was also flattered. I reflected that at age 37 I had just completed a half marathon, and now my kid recognized that I had a nice butt.
I seriously rocked.
My arm, however, was quickly broken while I patted myself on the back when Ethan explained, "Oh mom! Not your butt! That butt!" And with that, he pointed to the 12 foot poster in the Victoria's Secret store window. It showed a faceless model leaning over a car showing off her lacy drawers. She did, in fact, have a nice butt. A I-have-never-had-three-kids-and-ate-my-weight-in-chips-ahoy-cookies butt.
My mood suddenly tanked until Ethan said, "Why would anyone take a picture of a butt? Butts are gross! I mean . . .they're butts." Then he paused and said slowly for emphasis, "Farts.come.out.of.them."
So, I may not have a Victoria's Secret model's butt, but I do have a 7 year old little boy that makes me laugh.
He seriously rocks.