Lord, my baby has fuzz in his armpits.

"I think I've got fuzz in my armpit."

"Seriously?"

He yanked off his shirt. I had to turn on the gooseneck lamp and angle it, but, I'll be damned, he's got three little hairs under his left armpit. I didn't ask to inspect the right.

"Dude, that's wild. You're supposed to be my baby. What am I going to do?"

He put his shirt back on and puffed out his chest. "I'm a man. I'm dignified. I'm mature!" Then, he put on his childish, 11-year-old grin. "I'm going to go play with my ponies!!" he said in a voice about an octave higher than his normal one and hopped off like a 3-year-old.

Goof.