Last year, I made a summer-wear decision: one-piece bathing suits are no longer as easily wrestled with, and are enough to drive you crazy in too-small public bathroom stalls. Further, they may well be tools of de Debbil, and as such should now be avoided. At least, for beach- and vacation-wear.
Enter the tankini.
And earlier this week, in anticipation of our upcoming vacation, I ordered another top to go with the pieces I'd picked up last fall (two bottoms and a top). That package arrived today.
Now, I told you that, so I could tell you this.*
Hubby [taps box]: What's that?
Me: Bathing suit top.
Hubby: You're going to wear a bikini?
Me [opening package]: No.
Hubby: Then what?
Me: A tankini.
Me: I got tired of messing with one-piece suits.
I pulled out the suit top to show him...and Large Fry, who was snuggling next to him on the couch.
Large Fry [as I'm heading out the door]: Mommy, are you going to change down here?
Me: No, I'm going to go upstairs to my room.
Large: Good. No one wants to see your nipples.
[And that was the last thing I heard, until about ten minutes ago.]
Hubby [obviously not thinking]: Well, I do.
Large: Why do you want to see her nipples?
Hubby [mentally scrambling]: Well, men are strange that way.
Large: Why? Mommy's are big.
Hubby: Yes, I know. [pause] But do me a favor; let's not talk about nipples with other people. It's okay to talk about nipples with Mommy and Daddy...but not other people.
Large [lifts shirt]: Wanna see my nipples?
Hubby: No, I don't wanna see yours.
Large: Mine aren't grown up yet. Someday they'll be grown up.
Hubby [probably barely controlling his laughter]: Yes...you're right.
*Oh, hey, Dad? This one probably should've had the hernia mesh warning and the TMI warning. Sorry.