I was pregnant with my first son. My husband and I had taken a day to enjoy some window shopping at our semi-local (it's a 45 minute drive to get there) mall. We were making the rounds, and we'd stopped into a major department store to visit with my "Uncle Randy," who manages the Fine Jewelry Department. While perusing the jewelry section, waiting for his return from lunch, my husband and I ended up on opposite ends of the counter. My step-son, Zachary, decided to spend the time with me. He was eight at the time.
As I stood there, admiring the latest line from 1928 Jewelry (we were over at the costume jewelry display), another lady walked over and began browsing the merchandise next to me. She was about to get the chuckle of a lifetime...
My step-son, in the innocence of any eight year old discovering the truths of this world, said, "Wow Momma Boo! You're getting fat!" The lady by my side couldn't contain her laughter, and I smiled that all-knowing Momma smile at her as I calmly responded to my child's humorous remark, "I should hope so. I've got a baby in there."
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