I’m kidding, folks. Loosen your corsets and have a glass of wine. There’s no way I’m actually teaching my toddler about the birds and the bees. On the other hand, my kid certainly got an eye-full the other night. Oh yes, I am going into over-sharing extraordinaire mode right now.
I talked on my personal blog about how marriage at seven years with a toddler can feel like having a roommate and the key is to keep the butterflies going. But it is hard work because we are so gosh-darn tired at the end of the day and our three-year-old has a 9pm bedtime (thanks to his 2.5 hour daycare nap). So by the time he is zonked out in his room, we are usually ready to collapse with Netflix or NyQuil. On the other hand, we are still young and in love and I have read both Fifty Shades of Grey and Bared to You.
Do you see where I’m going with this yet?
My kid walked in on me and my husband getting frisky the other night.
MORTIFICATION EXTREME TO THE MAX.
All I know is that I was having a good time and then my husband is clearing his throat because we had a three-foot hobbit in footed jammies staring at us. It was awkward and then the child announced that he pooped and well, that pretty much destroyed the mood. We verbally sent him back to bed so we could….um, disengage…and then we went to tuck him back in.
A few minutes later, tucked into my own bed beside my husband, the most awful thought occured to me. A very vivid memory.
I had just turned three when I walked in on my own parents.
Oh, dear God.
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