“You mean your breasts? That’s what you can say that would be much more polite.”
I just got told by a 9-year-old.
Peanut’s now 33 1/2 weeks and what I have always been afraid would happen (that an old rib injury would come back full force when I got pregnant) has come true. Many years ago, in a world of rowdy punk rock shows, I was squished between two big dudes as an overly packed crowd ebbed toward the stage, and the cartilage between my ribs became detached from the ribs (or whatever it was supposed to be attached to).
But I digress…
This evening, as I sat outside with my laptop, grateful to my employers for letting me do some work from home when the office doesn’t feel good on my body (neither the office chair nor the pilates ball I trade between can stop my ribs from killing me, some days), Peanut started moving much higher and to the right side than I’d noticed before. And let’s face it, babies make breasts grow, and as someone who’s never been particularly well endowed, I was intrigued that in order to see my belly move, I had to move my breast out of the way. And of course, I had to go inside the house and share this news with my partner.
Which is when our 9-year-old (my step-daughter) entered the room… just in time to hear me say “I had to hike my booby out of the way to see it!”
Thus, I was scolded and told how to be more polite. She was right, I was wrong and I apologized, somewhat embarassed, but mostly proud that the manners and etiquette that I tend to be so strict about might finally be making a difference. Parenting win? Hah.