Redefining Inappropriate

We've had an interesting, boundary defining day here at the casa de queso.

Sam has been very interested in watching me breastfeed Lucy. He'll point at her mouth and then at my boob and make his little question face. So far, I think I've handled it pretty well. But I started pumping this week. And that? Is harder to explain to a 19 month old. He sits and watches me so intently. When he sees the milk, he seems to understand that it's not the same as his milk, but it's still weird. Today he got his hands on my (clean) pump. He then immediately lifted his shirt and tried to pump some milk of his own. Of course I laughed, which only encouraged him. So for the next half an hour we had to giggle at Sam as he attempted to milk himself.

Then there's this:


Nothing says 'Mommy loves you' like frozen breast milk nestled between two bottles of vodka.

I saved the most disturbing for last, so mentally prepare yourselves.

Sam interest in the potty and all bathroom related things has skyrocketed lately. He loves loves loves to be in the room when you're performing your dirty sinful business. Flushing has become his new Little Gym. Hand washing is one of the most exciting parts of his day. So this morning he joined me as I peed. I reached for some toilet paper, and Sam reached out for some as well. Since we've been telling him that he can only flush when there is paper in the bowl, I figured that he just wanted to toss it in to have a good reason to push the lever. So imagine my shock and horror when he offered some assistance with the wiping. As in, my baby boy tried to clean my cooter.

I am a horrible parent.