This morning at the gym, Jack was happily greeted by his girlfriend Sierra.
She made him lunch one time. Plastic lettuce.
She fixed herself an imaginary plastic burger complete with floppy bacon strips.
He set their love straight at that moment.
Burgers for ME. Lettuce for you.
Got it, woman?
Today was interesting.
They met eyes, then exchanged a few awkward but giddy body movements.
Then Jack signaled me to hunch down for a secretive inquiry.
"Mommy. Does she have a wittle penis?"
(should I be nervous about putting the "P" word in large print?)
NO, son. She is a girl. Girls don't have that part.
But you know, you can never be too safe.
It's always good to ask.
and then they played.
(an old picture taken after a potty stop on a road trip home from Tahoe.)