There we stood, in front of the fancy juicer Husband had purchased not too long ago in an attempt to make us healthier.
The spinach was waiting, along with the carrots and Granny Smith apples, to be pulverized into a green concoction of guaranteed energy.
The youngest had washed his hands and was waiting patiently on the step-stool. Though he refused to even smell the resulting juice, he loved to shove the vegetables and apples down the spout and listen to the chomping sound made by the juicer.
“It sounds like the ticket muncher at Chuck E. Cheese,” he declares and he’s right.
I turn to reach for the spinach and my chest is at his eye-level.
“Mom, are there milk in those?” he wonders, pointing to the girls. I love his verb confusion. I’m in no hurry to correct it.
“Not anymore, buddy,” I answer, slightly bemused.
“Did I drink milk from there?” he asks as he points to my chest.
“For a little bit,” I reply, beginning to pray the conversation ends here.
And for a short moment it does.
Because he then leans over and plants a kiss on my left breast.
“Thank you for giving me milk,” he tells it.
He then grabs the spinach from my hand and smiles at my befuddled face.
It was yet another awkward parenting moment and one I know I won’t soon forget.
What about you? Any awkward parenting moments as of late? Isn’t it always the awkward ones we remember?