Each time I go to Target, I stop by the boys’ clearance racks in hopes of catching good sale prices on clothes for Jeremy. He’s had a couple of growth spurts recently, but due to his height, sometimes sizing is tricky. Anyway, as I flipped through the racks, Jeremy watched carefully so he could approve (or disapprove) of anything I tossed in the cart.
As we approached a collection of sleeveless t-shirts, I all but looked at one for a second before Jeremy quickly said, “I don’t like that!”
“I know! I’m just looking!”
“I don’t want to show my arms,” he says. This is something I already know, considering the handful of sleeveless shirts in his closet he refuses to wear.
“I know, Jeremy. I’m not getting them for you. I was just looking,” I say again. Hastily, I go on. “But you know, everyone has arms. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Well, a lot of us have penises too, but we don’t show them,” he says cleverly.
“Except girls,” he continues.
“They don’t have penises,” he says.
“OKAY, Jeremy,” I say with a Mom stare. Stop saying penis in Target.
“My dad told me that,” he says casually.
“Jeremy! Enough now,” I say.
“Girls have a line.”