The Dress

The boys and I went for a walk today and wandered into a shop advertising “Spring Dresses $35.”  I’m not one known to pass up a good sale, so we hustle in.  Morris is so good at helping me to pick out things that “look pretty” so I indulge him and take the pukey brown dress, the tie-dyed frock that looks more like an old kitchen apron, and a skimpy number that resembled an art project he painted.

Morris is so excited that I’m gonna try on the dresses he picked out and bogarts his way into my dressing area.  Meanwhile, Bronson happily chews away on Goldfish in his infant seat (ok, 10 months old is pushing it for the infant chair, but it’s soooo easy).  I slip the first one on over my mom uniform (dirty jeans and a crusty tank top with a blend of 2 different perfumes and deodorant because I have now worn it 2 days in a row, not to mention to bed last night because I was too tired to change).  I oooh and ahhh over it, but Morris gives it a thumbs down.  On to the next number, same thing.  As I’m slipping on the final halter dress I have the following conversation with my extremely patient and curious 4 year old:

Me: Honey, thank you so much for picking out these pretty dresses.

Morris: Uh-huh.

Me:  Isn’t this fun spending quality time together?

Morris: Uh-huh.

Me: You’re being so patient while I try them on.  I can’t believe how attentive you’re being.

Morris: What’s attentive?

Me: Paying attention and not goofing off or breaking things.

Morris: Oh.

Me: Well, this is the last dress, what do you think?

Morris: WHEN CAN I SEE YOUR BOOBS?

As the sales girl gasps outside the dressing room, I notice Bronson gaze up and snicker as if in agreement with Morris.  Do they really start that young?

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