Yes… I might’ve done that…
I’m pretty sure that at the time my sons decide to marry (should they decide to do this), I will have a lot to explain to my soon to be in laws. For example, why both of my boys make constant weird noises (I seriously doubt they will grow out of this since my husband still does it) or why they have the neurotic habit of labeling their drawers. However.. there is another thing that I may have to explain and I’m hoping that at the time it comes around, they will have an appreciation for my sarcastic and perhaps a little off beat sense of humor.
I imagine the conversation will go something like this..
“Dear future daughter in law,
I feel I should probably say something to you just in case Ry has a seemingly unnatural fear of breasts. Yes, I do know how strange this sounds.. but perhaps I should start at the beginning.
I’m known for making jokes about how I would like to have bigger boobs. If you’ve been around our family, you probably already know this. Well, as a joke, I had a friend who got me a pair of those silicony fake boobies you can stuff inside your bra. (I call them the chicken cutlets.) Mike found them one day and, being his usual goofy self, decided it would be funny to put them on this large penguin Ry had a the time along with one of my bras. Ry, being almost two at the time, thought the bra wearing penguin was quite hilarious… well… until he went to pull off the bra and one of the boobs fell out.
I would like to say here that we were compassionate parents, full of understanding on how terrifying the boob falling out onto the floor was to a recently weened child, but I’d be lying if I said that. Truth is, his reaction was so extreme, we both starting laughing hysterically. It didn’t help that he ran away screaming at the plastic cutlet, hiding in the kitchen and refusing to come anywhere near it until we had put them away.
I’d also like to say that we never did this again to him…. but that would also be lying. At the time, we lived in a two story condo and one problem was Ry liked to go up the stairs. The other problem was also that he was a climber and could easily scale our baby gate.
So I did what any mother (any mother who thinks like me would do) and used the cutlets as a sort of “incentive” for him to stay off of the stairs. He would wait for me to go around the corner into the kitchen and then immediately run to the stairs. The soon to follow scream and run back toward me was a good indicator that he had discovered the weird mutant breast.
We did move away from that apartment slightly afterwards, so we didn’t really terrorize him too long with the cutlets. It was amusing for us as parents (something that all parents can appreciate, kind of like the amusement parents get when feeding their baby a lemon) and also served as a way for my child to listen to my words about staying off the stairs, out of the toilet, or cookie jar.
Part of me worries perhaps this might have instilled in him some unknown fear of breasts for later on in life, but if that’s the case, I will happily pay for the therapy bills. I’m sure there’s worse things we could’ve made him afraid of.”