Butterflies, Butts, and Boobs.

Hello to all my potential readers out there.  This is the first of what I am certain will be MANY blogs.  I have no shortage of material to write about considering I am married with two young daughters, and life is certainly never dull.  I am starting this at the suggestion of a very dear friend who seems to believe that my life at home is great sitcom material.  Reflecting on it, I suppose she's right.  I guess I don't pay much attention to the hilairity of some of the things that happen at home because I am so used to my surroundings.  But, here goes. 

So where is my starting point? 

Well, let's begin with a conversation my 7 year old daughter, Amaya, and I had this morning.  She is entering the age where she is extremely fascinated by the adult female body and also eager to get her own self to this stage way before she is ready.  Normal, right?  Sure.  The conversation started off with her coming up to me and leaning her head upon my chest. 

"Look how tall I am, Mom", she said as she placed her hand on top of her head and pressed her fingers against me showing me exactly how tall she was.  "I'm up to your boobs!"

"I see that," I answered, not trying to make a big deal out of her word usage, hoping she would just let it go.

"I drew boobs by accident yesterday at school," she then said.

By accident?  I waited for the explanation.

"I was drawing a butterfly and the wings looked like boobs and butts," continued Amaya as a smirk slid across her face.

She's testing me.  Don't play into it.

I decided to change the subject and began to question how she wanted to do her hair for the day as I fiddled in the bathroom drawer for a brush.

"I can't wait to get boobs, Mom!"  Amaya tugged on the front of her shirt as she said this, proudly staring in the mirror - as if to make a set magically appear.  Then she peered up at me in the reflection of the mirror and waited for me to say something.

Just let it go....Just let it go...Just let it....

I spun her around so she was facing me, and got down to her eye level and said, "Look, Amaya.  You are seven years old.  You have all the time in the world to grow up and become a woman.  You really need to concentrate on being a kid and worrying about kid things.  Boobs are not a kid's concern, okay?  Just let it go."  Amaya nodded and I stood back up and turned her around so I could proceed with doing her hair.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"When can I buy my first bra?"

FRICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!