At the tender age of two, Boo is a flirt. If he spies anything with boobies in his peripheral vision, he turns on the charm. I’m not exaggerating when I say groups of old ladies will follow us around in public cooing about how adorable his curls are.
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I think they were right. He is adorable. But the poor kid’s missing the tact filter between his brain and his mouth, just like his mama.
Scene: Walmart, 8:30 tonight. I was putting groceries on the checkout belt while Boo tried to persuade me that he was going to die if he didn’t get a sucker. The cashier laughed at him (again with the adorableness, gah!) and mentioned how stupid was to even keep suckers that close to the register.
When we were done, Boo yelled “Bye bye!” over my shoulder as we were walking away. And before we were even ten feet from the register, he added in the stage whisper we’d been practicing so he could go to church with my parents, “Mommy, was that a boy or a girl?”
Y’all, I died right there.
Admittedly, the person was rather androgynous looking, but her (?) nametag was emblazoned with the name ‘Kerol’. Boo can’t read very well (yet) so he gets a pass on this one. But oy vey. My kid? Has a mouth that’s gonna get him in a lot of trouble over the next eighteen or so years.
We’re so screwed.