Hooters

Hooters-Logo

Wifey and I got just got home last night from a trip back East; we got to spend a long weekend in NYC and a enjoy a Passover seder in the suburbs. We also had a chance to take advantage of some practice parenting with our beloved horde of nieces and nephews, which expanded by one baby girl almost 3 weeks ago now.

When we arrived on Thursday evening and walked into my sister’s apartment – smiles all around – I was anticipating exclamations of delight at the adorable bump already growing on my rather petite baby mama.

My mother, of course, exceeded all expectations. However, the first words of out Paternal Grandpa-to-be’s mouth were in reference not to my wife’s tummy, but to that which lies slightly higher on her torso:

“Damn, girl! You should get a job at Hooters!”

(This is paraphrased, but only slightly.)

Notwithstanding the fact that such a gig might represent a step down from her consulting career, and therefore require the Winedad to go out and get a “real” job, this remark reminded me once again of the many reasons why I love my father.

I mean, if he can get away with boob comments, than surely I can too – right? The “breast bonus” is clearly the most exciting thing about pregnancy, from a dude’s perspective, yet our women have made mention of it as taboo as discussing their hormones. I say, speak freely, boys! It’s about time! One more point for our side, courtesy of Grandpa.

Man, I can only wait to hear what my Uncle has to say.

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