Baby Oedipus

N has been on a Mommy tear lately, probably a result of spending literally eight to ten hours in my arms on Wednesday. (My diagnosis: bratitis, secondary to pneumonia.) He'll want some more milk, for instance, and when Baroy goes to get it for him, he'll scream (and despite the cloudiness on the x-ray, this kid has LUNGS), "NO! Mommy do it! Go way Daddy!"

The other night, the kids were arguing about who was going to sit next to which parent; we recently changed the orientation of our kitchen table, and whereas before we all sat on separate sides, we now sit two-by-two. Anyway, both kids wanted to sit next to me, and the fighting was making me crazy (and, yeah, Baroy is trying to keep a sense of humor about it, but it was clearly bugging him), so I decreed that they would sit next to each other and Baroy and I would sit on the other side. Case closed. Except, once E had finished her dinner, N started clamoring to come sit on my lap. I refused. But when Baroy got up to get seconds from the stove, N saw his chance. He jumped off his chair, ran over to the other side of the table, and quickly scrambled into Baroy's seat. "Daddy all done now," he declared. "Dis my chair now!" Baroy couldn't help but laugh. "Gee," he said, "could he be any more obvious about taking my place?"

Then, yesterday morning, he followed me upstairs while I was getting dressed. All of a sudden, he pointed to my breasts. "What's DAT thing?" he asked. "Those are Mommy's breasts," I said. "No, not DOSE things. DAT thing," he said, pointing more clearly to my bra. "Oh, that's a bra," I replied. "What a bwa?" he asked. Hmmm..."A bra is kind of like underpants for Mommy's breasts," I said. he wrinkled his brow at me. "Dat not underpants," he said. "Dat Mommy bwa. I touch it." And he did, gently, smiling up at me. And then, thankfully, he jumped off the bed. "I all done now. Bye Mommy."