Let's just say this first: I don't like grocery shopping with two boys.
Having said that, I was grocery shopping with my two cherubs today. We opted for the racecar cart. I had them driving together in the front, snacking on cookies (which I believe are free from the bakery mostly to appease frazzled mothers who do not mind bribing with cookies), then taking turns walking, driving, or hanging off the side like garbage men. By the time we reached the checkout lane, I was so ready to be finished with this life stage.
Tyler, my child who excels in making a friend and learning life history everywhere he goes (which he perhaps inherited from his hypersocial mother), said to the teenage grocery bagger, "Hi."
Nobody can turn down his dimples, red hair, smile, or charm.
"Where's your dad?" he asked.
Naturally, she was taken aback. "My dad? Oh. Well, he's at work."
As long as we're talking about it, "And where's your dad?"
"My dad? Oh, hmmm. He is... he is... at work too."
"Okay. So all the dads are at work."
"Yep. And do you have a penis?"
I covered his mouth faster than you can say 'inappropriate.' I scooped him up and said, "Tyler, that is not okay. We do not talk about that outside of our house."
I released my hand, to let him apologize. "Otay. Sorry, Mommy. And she's a girl. She probably doesn't have one."
It's likely. Please, sweet child. Stop asking.