The next morning, I went downstairs to make breakfast and found my sweet child already dressed and eating cereal. I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous in my life. Like, what do I say to her? How many questions will she ask?? Luckily for me, she only flashed her beautiful smile and said, “Good morning, Mommy!”
Did she forget what she saw? Does she know what we were doing? Do we have to discuss it? It’s too soon to have the woohoo talk! She still thinks a stork delivers babies to parents at their front door. No. We’re not doing this. There’s no point. I’ll wait until either she asks us or becomes a teenager, whichever comes first and not a moment sooner.
Winston was in worse shape than me when he came downstairs, finally. He wanted to know the status of the situation. I told him everything was fine, but he was still so embarrassed that Emmy got an HD view of his rear.
I tried to make light of the situation and told him he had a great butt and should hope he passed it onto her since I’m flat as a pancake. As I suspected, he didn’t appreciate it. Oh well. I tried.
