Our Kids Discuss Tracey’s Boobies

ahhh
A horrific reenactment 😉

Suddenly, our bedroom door swung open and Master9 stepped into the room.

“Can I…,” he started to say, but then finished with an, “AHHHH!” and ran from the room clutching at his eyes.

Seconds before he entered I’d noticed Tracey was getting dressed and was at that moment naked from the waist up.

“Hey, Trace?” I said to get her attention, in the hope she’d turn around.

She did better than that. She spun around, spread her arms out and wriggled her shoulders. I was mightily impressed. Master9, who entered at this point, was less so.

“AHHHhhhhh…” he said, disappearing from view.

“He probably should have knocked,” I said to Tracey, heading for the door to go calm our son down.

“I think he’ll know that for next time,” chuckled my wife, quickly dressing to follow me.

It was worse than we thought. We found him curled up in the fetal position under his bed.

“Come on out here,” I encouraged him.

“No!” he yelled. “It was disgusting!”

“No, it wasn’t,” I assured Tracey, even throwing her a thumbs up for good measure. “It was awesome!”

“I understand how you feel,” Tracey told him. Well, she told his feet. He hadn’t emerged yet. “I still have pictures of my parents on the toilet.”

“Oh my god, Mum!” he said, sticking his head out. “That’s even more disgusting than your boobies! You have pictures of them on the toilet!”

“NO!” said Tracey. “Of course not. The pictures are in my head. Memories.” Some emotions played across her face before she added, “Bad, bad memories.”

We coax Master9 out from under the bed.
We coax Master9 out.

Eventually we encouraged him out from under the bed. By now the whole family was involved in the discussion.

“You’ve seen Mummy naked before,” said Miss7 matter-of-factly.

Our house has the toilet, shower, bath, sink and laundry in the one room. Seeing each other naked can’t be avoided, especially with a two year old who doesn’t know how to shut the door behind her.

I briefly wondered how long we had before we needed to upgrade our house to one with more bathrooms before our kids had their own set of bad, bad memories like their mum. At the moment, if a kid catches us on the toilet the only thing they’re worried about it how long before we’re off so they can go.

But I didn’t get to wonder for long because Miss10 distracted me at this point.

“You know,” said Miss10, “you sucked on those boobies when you were a baby. You drank milk from them.”

And I swear, Master9 actually dry retched.

“…gak…that’s….hrk….disgusting…,” he said.

“Okay,” said Tracey, “now I’m starting to take it personally.”

“No, it’s not disgusting,” said Miss10 to her brother. “And anyway, you better get used to it because we always pass each other in the bathroom and it won’t be long now and,” she cupped her hand in front of her right boob, “BAM!” She cupped her other hand in front of her left boob. “BAM!

Apparently, Miss10 is expecting D cups.

Master9 looked at me.

“What is wrong with this family?” he asked me.

“It’s full of girls,” I told him, and gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “I’m 47 and I don’t understand them. You’ve got no hope, son.”

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“Raising a family on little more than laughs.” 

 

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