My efforts at raising a gentleman are wildly unsuccessful

Mark and I were discussing solar energy last night for a school report. He asked me what the opposite of sunshine was, and I answered, "Moonshine."

A few days previous, we'd had another discussion, about middle school hijinks. Apparently, my moonshine comment reminded Mark of that discussion, and one prank in particular, and he shouted out, "Hey mom, look at the moonshine!"

Before I could process those words, I turned, and was immediately accosted by the sight of my son's bare bottom. That's right, I got mooned by my own kid.

I was equally mortified and amused. It was so wrong, and I knew as a parent I should have acted more...parent-like. You know, like an adult. But the truth is, I share my middle-schooler's sense of humor, and instead of reprimanding him, I immediately burst into laughter.

Which was bad, because it totally encouraged him.

"What's that?" he asked, though I'd said nothing. "It's only a half moon?" He slid his pajamas bottoms down on one side, revealing half of his bare bottom.

I slapped my hands over my eyes, imploring him to stop, but he yelled, "Or is it only a quarter moon?" He was laughing too hard by this point to actually show me much, and for that, I am grateful.

"Stop!" I wheezed. "Put that thing away, I don't wanna see it!"

Finally, when we'd both stopped laughing, I smacked him playfully, and said, "Stop traumatizing me!"

I also pointed out that this is the difference between boys and girls.

"This never would've happened if I'd had a daughter," I said. (OK, there's an off chance it still might've happened, but the chances are MUCH smaller.) "I should've held out for a girl!"

But Mark just brushed off my comments. "Whatever," he said. He walked out of the room, and as he passed me, he gave me one last view.

"Quarter moon!" he whispered, then hightailed it out of there.

I am ashamed to admit that reduced me to giggles once again. Maybe I did get the right kid after all...