I'm not sure if I'd be thinking about breasts in any case, given my advanced age and the advancing effects of gravity, but they're certainly on my mind because of my boys and their different perspective. (I'm referring to all 3 boys, my kids and my husband!) Ben, the younger one, is curious about everything, and I find myself repeating, "I'm not sure why nipples aren't a private place for boys but they are for girls, and no, you can't see mine!" David's only reaction to me is to express abject horror when my attire reveals the slightest glimpse of cleavage – he will only reveal his curiosity to my husband. The other night, David tentatively asked Scott about the first time he got to ‘second base’ (can you believe kids still use that antiquated terminology and yet still think sex was invented in 1990?) Scott blissfully described the time a girl took off her shirt and let him fondle the coveted objects. David seemed disappointed. “That’s it? You just touched them?” Scott nodded, happily ensconced in his memory, and unsure why David seemed to be expecting a better climax to the story (pun intended).
The subject came up again (good grief, I can’t stop myself) Sunday when we attended a dinner for Scott’s band and their families. (One of Scott’s various jobs is singing with a big band – yep, I’m married to a wedding singer, and much cuter than Adam Sandler!) The boys and I ended up sitting near a new mom, and when the baby got fussy, the mother matter-of-factly began nursing at the table – with no discreet blanket or covering. I realized I’d never seen anyone nursing that openly since I’d done it myself, and to my complete surprise I felt a faint prickling, like the phantom limb feeling amputees describe. I looked tenderly at the former infants I once suckled – Ben was openly staring, with a gleeful smirk on his face, and David alternated between trying to ignore her and sneeking peeks. Gosh, they grow up fast!