I suppose I should have been more concerned when my 9 year old boy asked me if I thought his breasts were an unusual shape. But stranger things than that have come out of that boy’s mouth in the past and quite honestly, I wasn’t particularly shocked by his breast question.
“Why no, honey,” I murmured. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”
I was distracted by the pile of bills that had just arrived in the mail. The husband and the teenager had both received magazines and were already absent from the conversation. The boy was perusing the junk mail that had arrived with his name on it.
He continued to ask questions. “Mom, have my breasts been itchy or swollen lately?”
“Itchy? Are you itchy? Do you need some lotion?” I questioned back without pause or thought.
Amused by my lack of attention, the boy continued. “No, I’m not itchy but I am very concerned about this discharge I have coming from my...um...dimpled...nipple.”
I quickly looked up from the bills to see that he had also caught the attention of the husband and the teenager. The wide eyed husband was looking most confused and a tiny bit afraid. The teenager rolled her eyeballs and sighed. “You’re such a punk, you know?”
“I am not a punk!” the boy yelled back shaking his junk mail at her. “But...I just might have a thickening of my breast tissue!”
He had our complete and full attention now. “What the heck are you talking about? You don’t even have breasts! You don’t even like saying the word!” I shouted at the boy.
“Well, I may not have b-r-e-a-s-t-s,“ the boy declared, in elongated form, “but according to this postcard that I got today… from the doctor…” he yelled, glaring specifically at the teenager, ”which was addressed to me and to ME only……well…..you should all know that it is time for my yearly mammogram.”
We stared in silence at the boy for a good 10 seconds. He had a grin on his face that could not be erased.
“See, I told you that you were a punk,” the teenager finally muttered.
I grabbed the postcard out of the boy’s hand. It was true. It was addressed to him and apparently, it was time for his yearly mammogram.
“Honey, this is some mistake. It’s probably meant for me. We can just recycle it.”
“No!” the boy chuckled loudly. “Don’t recycle that! If I make my appointment by July 1st I can get a free digital thermometer with that special coupon on the back!”
The husband shook his head and went back to reading his magazine. The teenager, mumbling something teenager-ish under her breath, shook her head and went back to her magazine. The boy, giggling the whole way, went upstairs to the computer to check on his Club Penguin Puffles.
I shook my head and went back to dealing with my own mail problems. Apparently, our dead cat was eligible for a credit card with a $5,000 limit and I wanted to get started right away filling out the application.
Check This Out!
The Slightly Exaggerated family has gone country this week. We are obsessed with Jason Aldean’s song, Big Green Tractor. Listen to the link below, over and over, at sunset, while rocking on your porch swing that overlooks the vast landscape that is your yard. Make sure that you're also drinking some of this lemonade.
Add one cup of sugar to two cups of water in a large pot. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer until sugar is dissolved. Squeeze the juice of 6 or 8 lemons into the pot. Add one or two small tubs of already sweetened, sliced frozen strawberries. (Or add some fresh or frozen unsweetened strawberries. If you do this, you may want to add a little more sugar at the beginning. As with anything, adjust to your taste. You can also puree the strawberries before adding to the pot if you don't like your drinks chunky. I usually mash things up a bit with my potato masher.) Stir well, add as much water and ice as you need to make it to your liking, and refrigerate. If it is a special occasion, such as a Thursday, you can also add a bit of sparkling water or club soda.