I wish I could tell you that Edwin was done with talking about boobs. That it was just a fleeting weekend fancy. But no, no it wasn't. Edwin has been talking about boobs for well over a week. Specifically, my friend M's boobs. "M has boobs, mommy. M has BOOOOOOOBS." I don't understand why he is obsessed with this particular friend's boobs. I don't go around talking about them or anything (though, in all fairness, she does have a spectacular rack).
Tonight at dinner I found myself in a dispute with my two-year old about whether talking about boobs was funny. He was again waxing poetic about M's boobs and I said, "Edwin, it's not nice to talk about people's boobs." (I don't know what else to say, really. I'm not sure he can yet grasp the concept of objectifying women, though times like this make me wonder.)
Edwin: "It's funny. Hee hee hee."
Me: "No, it's not funny."
Me: "Not funny, sweetheart."
Edwin: "M HAS BOOOOOOBS!!!!"
I give up.