Thalia-isms (#1 in perhaps an infinite series)

“Mommy, where are your booooooooobs?”

“They’re right here. And they’re called breasts.”

“Daddy says booooooooobs.”

“I know honey. But that’s a silly word. Like a word we only say inside, when we’re home. There are some words that are at home words, and some words that we say with everyone else. Breasts is the word you use with everyone else. And these are my breasts.”

“But where are your boobs?”

“They’re the same thing. Some words have two different names. Like…like kids are also called children.”

“Oh!”

“And cats are also called kitties. Boobs are also called breasts. Do you understand?”

“Yes! Like people are also…like people are also called…monkeys.”

“Don’t tell that to the Evangelicals.”

“The what?”

“Never mind.”

{24 Comments}

24 thoughts on “Thalia-isms (#1 in perhaps an infinite series)”

  1. Heh heh,With the Impling, it’sniiiiiiples! Endlessly fascinating.No wonder there are so many Goddess images. I’ll think we’ll stay away from words like “Evangelical” for a good long while as well! There are some things the little ones don’t need to know about yet.Hah.

  2. Yes honey, sometimes we call them Evangelicals, but mostly we call them close-minded religious fascists. You can use that in the house or out. Oh, and sometimes they’re also called “boobs.”

  3. Hahaha! Clever.I’ll be in your neck of the woods next week, if you could give me some must-see suggestions that are KayTar-friendly, I’d be much obliged!

  4. Funny!As my sister stepped out of the shower the other morning, her 5-year old son told her, “No more boobies, Mom!” and handed her a robe to put on.Guess not all kids are curious about boobs after all.

  5. Oh, I have this conversation ALL the time.It seems that my daughter is taking after my husband’s lingo as well. Whatev.

  6. As a closed mined Evangelist we still refer to them as boobs…and I call my kid little monkeys all the time :/

  7. Haha!Q was asking how I was feeding the baby, and I explained that he was getting milk from my breast. Somehow, that didn’t stick and he insists that the milk comes from my “tummy.” Close, I guess.

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