"Mom!" said C. Peevie, charging into the bedroom. "Mom! I need to check something!"
He's always charging around in his half-man, half-boy body; that's nothing new. But his voice held a teeny bit of urgency, as though he had grown an extra nipple or accidentally shaved off an eyebrow.
He ran over to me, leaned in until his nose was thisclose to mine, and stared into my eyes for four seconds. I stared back.
"Phew," he said, letting out his breath. "You have hair under your eyes. It's normal."
I blinked. "Yes, C. Peevie," I said. "They're called eyelashes." I was confused, because he is normally quite bright.
"I thought eyelashes were only on the top of your eyes," he said.
"No, C.," I reassured him. "Eyelashes are on both the top and the bottom."
"Well, I didn't know that until just now," he said, with no trace of self-consciousness. Sweet, funny, occasionally-feeble-minded child. Adorable, no?
"What did you think was going on?" I asked, remembering his anxiety.
"I don't know," he said. "It might have been hair cancer."
Maybe I'm a bad parent, but this made me laugh so hard I peed a little in my underwear. I love being a parent. I especially love being a parent of this particular man-child, who never stops bringing the funny. Inadvertently.