Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Mr. Magoo's Motorboats

One of the joys of having a thirteen year old son is the realization that the fart jokes of his puppy dog tailed childhood have started to merge with his Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue puberty.

Boobs.
 
...are fascinating objects and worth thinking about and giggling over.

Breasts are always inserting themselves into daily life. For a thirteen year old boy this provides a smorgasbord of tasty funnies.  At any point, or several points, throughout the day, my boy can be trusted to provide some sort of red faced allusion to knockers.  We used to find  this amusing, like the first time your toddler repeats a particularly raunchy swear word, and now as he's nearing his 14th birthday he's earning eye rolls.



But then, if boobs weren't funny, the enormity of the subject may cause my son to faint dead away.



That can't happen.



 Not if he hopes to actually experience some someday.

2 comments:

  1. Holy mother of God...is that Jack Nicholson??

    ReplyDelete

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