Fat Mom Will Erupt

My son is very aware that his mom is fat. He tells me all the time.
“How do you do that if you’re fat?” He has asked so many times, looking up with his big, concerned, HONEST eyes.
While my husband was doing some painting, he moved some of my daughter’s Polly Pockets. Now: she has 2 storage bins FULL of Polly Pockets. They were given to her as hand-me-downs from my cousin, Leigh.
When my husband finished painting, I asked her to move her Polly Pockets back to their spot in in the living room.
“I can’t carry the big one,” my daughter said, pointing to the larger bin, “Will you get it for me, Mom?”
“Lace,” my son cut in before I could respond, “No. Mom is just too FAT.”
Then something -a light bulb, probably -came on in his head. He turned to me, again with his big, concerned, HONEST eyes.
“What would happen if Fat Mom fell on her liddle boy?”
Oh, he SERIOUSLY wanted an answer to that?! I didn’t know what was worse -the fact that he actually had a brief terror flash before his eyes of his mom falling on him OR the fact that I know have an official new name.
Not Mom.
Fat Mom.
Fat Mom.
Say it. It feels like a warm hug. Go ahead.

The kids went with me to my baby doctor appointment. As I sat on the table waiting for the good doctor to come in, my son handed me a magazine.
“It’s about babies being born!” He said, excitedly.

Well.
I did say he was honest. I just didn’t realize how much he actually understood the birthing process.