At least I’d feel better about my own ogling

I was at the book festival all weekend. That meant My Honey was alone with both kids. Then Sassy went to spend the night at a friend’s house, leaving the boy alone with his father. I’ll tell you I was worried about them both making it through the weekend alive.

It’s a legitimate concern.

Instead, apparently, they had fun. The Bandit told me all about some of their adventures. Some might call it tattling.

“Daddy wanted to go to lunch at Hooters,” he told me. “He said the waitress there have big boobies.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, laughing because I know how this conversation must have gone. The Bandit is still in the camp that smooching is gross and girls are icky.

“I told him, Dad! You’re married!”

“Honey,” I said with exaggerated calm, “I know that daddy looks at other women’s boobies. It’s okay.”

“Well, I’m not going to. Ick.” He seemed greatly offended at the idea.

My husband is laughing from the kitchen as I hear of his transgressions.

Later that night, we were all watching Thor 2 and a very exquisite scene comes on where a shirtless Thor is washing in a basin. Perhaps I was drooling, I don’t know. It’s possible.

I turned to My Honey and said, “You should have totally gone to Hooters, dude.”