I drill please and thank you into my child a million times a day. Yet I still hear "Take my shoes off!" and "I want chocolate milk!" But I say one word ONE time, and she locks on like a pit bull.
We are nearing the end of the King Tut exhibit, and after looking at ancient relics and learning how they were discovered and what the relics were used for, we ended up in a horribly tacky gift shop filled with glittery Sphinx hats, pyramid-shaped suckers, and sarcophagus-shaped pencil boxes. There were a bunch of people crammed in there, looking at their Egyptian treasures, and Norah decides to announce to everyone, while grabbing both my breasts, "My Mommy has BOOBIES." Thank you for the alert.
We were shopping for a baby gift in Macy's, and it happened to be prom night for some local high schools. There were prom couples everywhere. On a side note, had my prom date taken me to the mall before prom, I probably would have kicked him in the groin. Anyway, a girl and her date were walking down the aisle at Macy's, toward the exit. The girl had a tangerine-colored, strapless dress with a jeweled bodice. Norah burst out of a clothing rack and shouted, "Oooooooo! Look at her BOOBIES!" The girl gasped, "Oh my God!" and her date doubled over with laughter. I apologized and carried my awed little girl back to the cashier.
We were innocently playing Whack-a-Mole, when Norah grabbed the plastic bag for the toy and wrapped it around her chest. "I have BOOBIES!" she declared, dancing, while my mother looked on in horror. "It's a swim top, Norah. Can you say swim top?" She repeated and continued to dance around in her boobies.
She had also told the entire locker room at swim class that I had boobies, and has told Ryan he does not have boobies. It's clearly time to nip this in the bud, but no matter how I correct, it's lost on her. I guess I'll just wait for the note to come home from her Catholic daycare. Great.