A couple of months ago, I started a new weekly theme: Sundays are for Sebastian. Sebastian is my four year old and he says some of the funniest things–we have no idea where he gets his material since his mother and I are rather boring, serious people.
Here is last week’s encounter (which is a prelude to this week’s):
I took Sebastian to his classmate’s birthday party. Just after he finished his cake, Sebastian comes up to me and starts massaging my chest.
Seba: “What’s this?”
Me: “My chest.”
Seba: [Still massaging] “No really, what is this.”
Me: “It is my chest.”
Seba: “You sure it does not start with a ‘B’?”
The rest of yesterday’s conversation with my four year-old at his classmates’s birthday party :
Me: “What word that starts with a ‘B’?”
Sebastian: “You know, it’s what girls have. I will get in trouble if I say it.”
Me: “You mean [lowering my voice] ‘boob’?”
Seba shyly nodded while looking away. As I was considering an age appropriate response, Sebastian quickly spun around, pointed at me, and screamed “Awwww, you said the ‘B’ word!!”