“Has everyone here noticed that my mommy is getting a little bit fat?”

“You think so, Ty?”  I ask.

“Yep.  ‘Member that picture I drew of you, in the big, puffy coat?  I drew you fat.”

“Is it because I’m wearing the big, puffy coat in your drawing?”

“Yes, and because you’re getting fat.”

(I’m pretty sure I’m not, by the way.  All the numbers relating to the topic at hand have stayed relatively the same.)

He posed this conversationally, asking if ‘everyone’ had noticed.  Not just one of you, not just anyone.  He’d like for each and every person to take notice.

I didn’t take him seriously.  I laughed.  (Only a little.)
And then we talked about the word ‘inappropriate.’

I was so bold to say that ‘fat’ is the worst possible thing he can say to someone, anyone, ever, forever.

(We’ll make that a growing list.  There are a few other terms that belong on the list, but he hasn’t discovered them yet.)

Freaking five-year-old.

Oh, my boys.

I hang out with them for the affirmation.

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