"I'm sorry!" I burst out, "But there are just too many sports related innuendos!"
I say this as my six year old son is running around his grandmothers kitchen with the new baseball set she got him. My mother rolls her eyes and sighs.
"You know, just because you won't have the kids for two days doesn't mean you can't control yourself. You'll have plenty of time with your husband later."
But she's wrong. I won't have time with my husband. Between both our jobs and his school, we would barely sleep next to each other. So I have a date.
I feel the blush creep up my face as I think of her shoulder length hair, shy eyes, and her soft porcelain skin. I think about showing up at her house, about having dinner, about retiring to her hot tub. Images of beautifully wet female skin start racing through my head.
My sister nudges my shoulder. I'm a kid again, caught in my naughty little thoughts as I sit in my mother's kitchen.
My sister smiles and says, "Yeah, we know what you're thinking about."
You don't. You really, really don't.