Pavlov And The Pursuit of Titties

B.A is trying to be a kind and loving wife to husband, who has worked a long hard day and now must turn right back around and go to the ballpark for practice. She is also trying to assuage the guilt she feels due to the fact that her day was very relaxing.

B.A.(calling from Kitchen): Would you like a sandwich before you go honey?

Husband (wearily): No thanks, baby. I just want to sit here for a minute.

B.A.: Would you like a cup of coffee?

Husband: No thanks.

B.A.: Cold drink?

Husband: No thanks.

B.A.: Would you like a blow job?

Husband: No th...wait...what?

BA snickers to herself in the kitchen.


What???

Come on, don't tell me you never said "Snausage?" to the dog just to see how long the twin strands of drool would get before he licked his chops. Don't tell me you've never said "Ousside?" just to see him do that little ass dance. And you fully intended to follow through after you had your fun, right? So no harm done.

I could have said "toe job" or "snow job" and still his ears would have pricked (ha) up and his head cocked (double ha) sideways. Pavlov should have used men. Talk about a conditioned response.

In other news from this male dominated household...

Earlier today my Diminutive One asked me,

"Mom, howcome when boys are singing a song about girls, they're always saying they're sorry?"

I had no answer for him that didn't sound completely misandristic (yes, I had to look it up). I settled on...

"Well, honey, because, umm...being in love is hard, and umm...sometimes, people in love hurt each other's feelings, and, umm....

I am GREAT at this off the cuff stuff.

He interrupted me.

"Okay, I get it. I think I'll just have girlfriends but not be in love."

That, my dear, is called having your cake and eating it too, but that's another lesson for another day.

Pre-Pubescent One, meanwhile, is experimenting with the sexual vernacular that adolescent boys seem to relish so much. Today I heard him say "titties". I don't want my baby talking about titties. I don't want my baby thinking about titties. I don't want my baby to even know that titties exist.

When I told husband, there was flicker, a flash, a ghost of a smile, which he wisely suppressed in the face of my stony indignation.

Husband said "Baby, I hate to tell you this, but from here on out, it's all about the pursuit of titties. There's nothing you can do about it."

He's right. I know it. I don't like it.

"But can't we at least try to foster a healthy and respectful attitude toward women? They are BREASTS and they are for feeding an infant."

"Absolutely." says Husband with conviction. "But he's still going to call them titties."

SIGH.