River and I are enjoying breakfast at the Diesel Cafe in Davis Square (okay, that should read: River is running around in circles avoiding his muffin while I try to pound my coffee). After a few hundred laps around the room he jumps up on me and suddenly gets very snugly.
I should preface the next part by saying that though River has been weened for a while, he still has quite an obsession with my chest (he's a man; I suppose the obsession is hard-wired). He likes to use it as a pillow as he's going down for a nap. I've tried to discourage overt fondling, but occasionally he still sneaks in a few seconds of motor-boating. So he's there, resting his head on my ladies, when he suddenly looks up and shouts to the roomful of strangers, "BOOBIES!"
Saturday my friend Ben is in town to play a show (awesome job, by the way) and he crashes at our place. Sunday morning River is busy eating an apple in my lap and looks over to Ben, points to his apple and says, "Apple." He then points to my chest and says, "Boobies," whereupon he rests his head and finishes his snack. Just in case you wanted to know what I'm doing, Uncle Ben.
Back at the cafe... After River shares his love of boobies with the room, he notices his nose is running and he's conveniently left a slime trail across my shirt. He has to let the people know, right? So the next thirty seconds proceed with me turning a new shade of red as he screams, "BOOBIES! BOOGERS! BOOBIES! BOOGERS!"
I guess I should feel lucky he didn't feel the need to talk about his penis too...
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