This week, probably against better judgment, I am out in Oregon for the better part of a week. First in McMinnville, then down to Southern Oregon, and then back up to Eugene. As I normally do while on the road, I re-post one of my favorite Sundays Are for Sebastian. This one comes from over eight years ago when Seba was four.
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.
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.”
[Pause]
Seba: “You sure it does not start with a ‘B’?
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!!”
Every adult head turned….
the drunken cyclist 