“Mommy!” I hear Eric’s low growl from across the house. “Where is Daddy’s magazine?”

We subscribe to many publications. From “”O and “More” to “Vanity Fair” and “Zoo Books.” We can barely get through them all before the next batch appears in the mail. Eric’s favorite is his dad’s “National Geographic.” I get such satisfaction freeing it from the plastic wrapper to expose the latest exotic cover. Eric devours it page by page and my husband often has to fish it out of Eric’s bedroom in order to read it himself.

But this was not the magazine he meant.

He was referring to Daddy’s “Playboy” with “The Girls Next Door” on its cover.

I got my husband a subscription for his birthday. He likes it for the obvious reasons (the articles). I love the jokes and the advice column, and it really does have good interviews and fiction. I find the gravity defying pictures beyond entertaining.

When I asked Eric what he liked about it, he answered: “I like da hot girls.” He's five! It’s not like I hadn’t anticipated this conversation. I did, but, say, ten years from now.

I have mixed feelings about this developmental development. I see nothing wrong with appreciating the human body. It is healthy and normal. But those airbrushed double D breasts have no semblance to reality. I doubt he understands the cartoons. I know he doesn’t like the magazine for the articles because he can’t read. My son's eyesight, however, is very good.

Since I didn’t want to make too big a deal out of this, I just removed it from his room while he was at school.

I left the “Sports Illustrated” swimsuit edition in its place. The articles are not as good, but so far he has not complained.

By Cathy Burke

Labels: Cathy Burke

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