28 Feb 2014
I have a pile of magazines in the bathroom, as I believe that is a requirement by law in America (but don’t tell: my other bathroom has 10 issues of the Archie Digest and Morrissey’s Autobiography in it). I subscribe to House Beautiful (the best of all the decorating magazines, as even though everything is super-expensive, it is translatable into Poor People), Real Simple (hokey wisdom, disgusting recipes, cleaning tips), and Vanity Fair (weird blend of current/old movie star profiles and rich people murders/divorces). Spike has shown very little interest in any of these until the other night, when the pile fell over and he saw the January issue of Vanity Fair with Amy Adams on the cover.
Spike: Ewwww, Mommy! Look at this lady!
Me: You think she’s gross? I think she’s pretty.
Spike (with disgust): Ugh, why are her eyes so sparkly? And why are they so blue?
Me: . . .
Spike: And look, you can see her nipples*!
Spike: (staring at magazine) WHY CAN’T I STOP LOOKING AT HER NIPPLES!!??
Later, I took the super-confusing nipples of Amy Adams to another room, and Spike started hollering, “No, that’s MY magazine.” Oh. Okay. So he’s going to be a straight guy.
*He is under the impression that the whole shebang is the nipple. You try correcting him, why don’t you.