Girls, girls, girls...

Five-year-old Ethan brought home his elementary school yearbook yesterday. Of course, we had to sit down and look at his picture and go through all 20 kids in his class: 12 girls and 8 boys.

So, I pointed to each person, one by one, and asked him if he/she was his friend.

Every girl I pointed to was a, "Oh yes - she is my fend."

Every boy I pointed to, with the exception of one was, "Oh no. He is not my fend."

That's fine. I'm glad he enjoys playing with the girls.

But couple this with several other things that I know about my child and I'll be honest. I'm a bit anxious about our years ahead with our youngest son.  

Example. When he was 3, we had a brick patio put in the back, just outside our sliding glass door. He really wasn't interested in watching them put it in... until one day, I found him pressed up against the glass. Every part of him was pressed against the glass.

I look out, and see that a woman has joined the crew. A well-sculpted, very well-endowed, woman wearing low rise jeans and a white tank top. Every time this worker bent over, depending on whether her back was to us, or her front, we got a nice view of either her voluptuous breasts, or the tattoo on the small of her back.

No question - she was a head turner.

Me: "Ethan, what are you doing?"

Ethan: "Mom. I weewee weewee like that durl." 

At which point I promptly peeled his little body off the glass door and said, "I think it's time for us to watch a little Sesame Street."

Another example:  When he was about 4, we had a lovely college woman come over to babysit the boys. She was beautiful. Tall, slim, long hair... you get the picture.

Ethan is a cutie pie. He has long eyelashes and a sweet smile and he knows how to work it. He bats his long eyelashes at her and asks her if she wants to sit and read to him. I go up to get ready to leave and when I get back, he is on her lap and she gestures for me to come over.

Babysitter: "Oh my God. You won't believe what Ethan just said to me," she says in a hushed voice.

Me: "Oooookaaayyyy. What?"

Babysitter: "He looked at my boobs and said, 'You're a durl. I like your boobs.' And then he kinda poked at one with his finger."

Me: "Oh my God!  I am so sorry! ETHAN!"

Babysitter: "NO! No! Don't! No one has ever told me they like my boobs! No one has ever noticed my boobs. I love him! (pause) Actually, we're dating now."

Do you see why I'm a little worried?