(Again, I don't think it counts as an "overheard" if I am part of the conversation; for lack of a better word, we are going with "overheard". Deal with it.)
The Boy (yelling from the bathroom): Mo-ommy, come he-ere. (cute because he dragged on the syllables. I really should have known this was not a good sign.)
So, because I am still vying for that Mom of the Year award, I walk to the bathroom.
I get to the doorway and find him standing on his stool, facing away from the toilet toward the door, one hand on his hip, the other pointing proudly at his junk.
The Boy: Mo-omy, my peepee is BI-IG.
Me: Oh, yeah. Okay, buddy. Pull up your pants. (I was caught quite by surprise, and a little embarrassed.)
What does the boy do? Couldn't be 'listen to his mommy'. No, that would be too easy.
He takes two fingers pushes in his junk and moves his hand in a circular motion while pushing it in. With a huge smile on his face. While I stare on in horror.
So, I decide, I'll just walk away and he'll stop because he no longer has an audience, right? Wrong. As I walk away from the bathroom, completely mortified at this point because this is SO not my department, what do I hear?
The Boy: Mo-ommy, it's little again.
Of course, when I sent Beast this little exchange via text message, I got no sympathy. I received the following: "That is freaking awesome...I am crying I am laughing so hard right now."
Want to know what the text message said back to him? Two words. The second one was "you". I'm sure you can use your imagination from there.