Sundays Are For Sebastian Revisited (#10)

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….

photo-38

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About the drunken cyclist

I have been an occasional cycling tour guide in Europe for the past 20 years, visiting most of the wine regions of France. Through this "job" I developed a love for wine and the stories that often accompany the pulling of a cork. I live in Houston with my lovely wife and two wonderful sons.
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