Early this morning...
Creeaaaak went my bedroom door. Step...step...step, step, stepstepstepstep. "Uh Daddy? Daddy? Hi Daddy." a small voice whispered.
A bit of grunting and groaning as Jack climbed into bed with us and then all was quiet for about 10 minutes or so. I felt Jack's little hand on my back to get my attention but I was still tired so I continued to fake sleeping.
I started to nod off again and then Jack turned his attention to Jay. "Uh Daddy? Daddy?"
"Hmmm, what Jack?"
"Is that your boob?"
"Boys don't have boobs."
Uh oh, I thought to myself. This is bordering on a discussion related to birds and bees or private parts (also known to Jay as "it" or "thingy"). This is not Jay's area of expertise. That is my department. In our house, we have very clear roles and responsibilities. Laundry, killing bugs and mowing the lawn-Jay. Dishwasher, grocery shopping, anything close to resembling a sex talk- Me.
Jack wasn't going to let him off that easy. "Well, uh then what are those uh reddish brown circles right there?"
"Huh, Daddy? What is it?"
Oh for the love of Pete! It's going to be one of those times where I might need to save Jay from "that type of thing". So, I inhaled deeply and jumped in. "They're called nipples, Jack. Boys have nipples."
And then Jay breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted. Hillary Clinton once said, "It takes a village to raise a child." Or in our case, it takes at least one parent who can say words like nipple, vagina and penis out loud without cringing. And it takes another to kill the bugs.