Boobies

My boss often tells me about the cute things that his kids come out with sometimes--his daughter Lena is 2, his son Miles is 4. I've met Miles and he is adorable--one of those so-cute-you-want-to-bite-them sort of kids. Anyway, Lena had quite the observation this morning. "Daddy, I have small boobies." Which my boss proceeded to tell me that it was simply a statement of fact and she was perfectly okay with her two year old small boobies. That made me happy. Can't have any self-depreciating image-conscious two-year olds.
Lena's boobie observation made me think about my own obsession with boobies when I was little. At not quite 4 years old, my mother (pregnant with my brother at the time), took me to the Staten Island Mall to get my picture taken with Santa. I had throughly rehersed what I wanted. A new Easy Bake Oven, a set of roller skates, a Little Orphan Annie dress--and you guessed it--BOOBS! I climbed up on his lap, rattled off my list, and closed with the boob request. I don't remember what Santa's reaction was, or who prompted me to come out with boobs, but I must say, though Santa may not have delivered that year, he certainly made sure to do so later in life.