Entry FeedYou may think that my family is obsessed with butts, given that this is my third blog that has the word, "butt" in it.
Really, I don't care about my butt. I can't see it, but it's comfortable to sit on, so why care?
I haven't heard any complaints about my butt. While I have had a few compliments, those were in my younger, pre-pregnancy days. I don't see it when I look in the mirror (except for those unfortunate times when I have used toilets with mirrors mounted above them - who does that?)
The other day I was loading the fridge with our groceries. Son Two came up behind me, and I felt him lightly put one hand on either hip. Then he stepped back. I turned around to see him standing, looking at his hands which he was holding about two feet apart.
Me: What are you doing?
Son: Just measuring your butt.
Me: Husband, stop laughing or you will be sleeping on the couch tonight.
Son Two did this completely without malice or sarcasm. For all I know it could have been learned in an estimation or measuring unit at school - you know the new math!
Son One and Husband had quite the laugh.
I think I need to start running a little more. And I am hoping that Son Two's measurement skills are a little generous - since he is a male.