While Tadpole splashes merrily in the bath, her legs pressed together into her best impression of a mermaid’s tail, I decide to get changed. I take my MILF status very seriously, which means my cotton underwear must make way for something a little more transparent and titillating before the Boy returns home from work.
I remove my jeans and underwear, frowning at Tadpole, who appears to find my nudity a cause for hilarity.
“What on earth is so funny?” I ask, my cheeks reddening a little.
“I just laughing at your bottom,” Tadpole explains, between giggles. “It’s so big. And FAT. Like a whale.” Tadpole holds up a turquoise whale to illustrate her point – it’s one of the anti-slip shapes which adhere to the bottom of our bathtub – and traces the curve of its back with her index finger.
“A whale?” I splutter, both amused and horrified. “My bottom is like a whale?”
“Yes, like a whale,” Tadpole confirms. “Or a mountain.” She ponders for a moment, evidently searching for another simile. “Mummy…?”
“How do you say in English the bosse of a camel?”