My son was fidgeting and pulling at the fly of his pants. He’s four-years old and, although he’s potty trained, I don’t want to take any chances.
“Do you have to go to the bathroom?”
“No, I’m just playing with my pieces.”
“That’s not your ‘pieces’ that’s your (insert proper name of body part that may not be suitable for a family newspaper).”
“No it’s not,” he laughed, and skipped away shyly.
“Yes, it is,” I told him.
“Well, I just like touching my pieces.”
“Well, if you want to touch it, go in the bathroom. That’s for going potty. So if you have to go potty, please go to the bathroom.”
“No, Mom! My PIECES,” he said and picked up the large blocks he was playing with on the floor and waved them at me.
Don’t you love it? You think, “Okay, here we go — a ‘birds and the bees’ topic,” only to find out that your kiddo is on a completely different planet… and you’re a pervert.
After four other kids I should know by now to first always ask: “What do you mean by that?”
When I was four I asked my mom where I came from. Before she launched into an explanation about the creation of life, she wisely asked, “What do you mean?”
I said, “Did I come from New York or California?”
Some upfront information from those darling kidlets can make a world of difference.
Teenagers on the other hand are a little different. Ask them what they mean and you’re liable to get, “How much do you want to know?” Even if they are being smart alecks and playing with you, they can easily shave ten years off your life.
I don’t know about other parents, but deep down inside I have to steel myself. I try to talk calmly and casually about…life, but inside I want to run screaming from the room. They grow up so fast!
My oldest son has informed me that he is not going to get married when he grows up. He made that declaration when he was four and has kept that vow for six years. If he can do that until he’s grown and lives on his own, I think I just found my new favorite child.
On the other hand my youngest, the four-year old, wants to marry one of his older sisters. There’s just no rulebook for kids. They all grow their own way.
They’re also greatly influenced by society. I’ll never forget the day one of my kiddos came home from first grade (the first week!) and asked when she was supposed to have a boyfriend. Six-years old and already the pressure was on.
I’m not ready for this!
