I remembered this from a few days ago today while in the shower.
A few days ago Liam was sitting on the floor near me and I had my Capri dressed legs propped up on the table in front of me. By chance Liam brushed against my legs and something caught his attention. He looked at me to see if I was watching him - so I pretended not to be using my Mommy peripheral vision.
He tried to seem nonchalant and brushed his fingers over my leg. He got a look on his face that said, interesting. And then he did it again. This time his face was perplexed-curious-and-what-was-that-other-look-oh-yeah-disgust.
"Mom, your legs have whiskers." A statement.
not a half breath later. . . perhaps even the same sentence. . .
"your legs have whiskers!" An exclamation
another half breath. . .
"your legs have whiskers?" A question
Having never really thought of it as whiskers I said. . .
"Yep."
"But, whyyyyyyyy?" It seemed his universe might crash all because my legs had whiskers.
I then tried to explain, society, preference, feeling, texture. Daddy legs, boys legs - Mommy legs. I made sure that he understood that shaving my legs is right up there with Dishes and laundry on my least favorite things to do with my time list and that why I had whiskers, pricklies, stubble.
He seemed balanced somewhere between intrigued and horrified.
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