For the last few weeks, I've been hearing very disturbing table talk. Boy Terror takes a bite out of his sandwich, holds it up, and says to his sister "Look! I had a big nipple!" and then she makes a "nipple hole" in her sandwich. As he is finishing his lunch, he'll talk about how many nipples he had today. As in, "I got so many nipples! I do! And fast! I got the nipples done fast!"
I had no idea where this was coming from. Contrary to what it may seem, we do not spend our days walking around talking about our nipples. (Although, hanging out in bed yesterday morning, Boy Terror asked "Daddy, what's that on your belly? That red thing?" It was a nipple. So then we all got to hear who has nipples, who grows boobies, etc).
Finally, this afternoon, the light dawned. Boy Terror was telling me how he is a big boy, and as such, is not going to make a huge mess at meal times anymore. To avoid the crumby mess, he is going to take big bites. Not nipples. Ahhhhh. NIBBLES. More along the lines of a cute chipmunk, and less "Chipendales male stripper".