Boys Will Be (the) Boys (They've Been Raised to Be)
The phone rang and surprisingly it wasn't the "IRS" telling me that I owe money and if I don't give them my credit card info right now they'll throw me into jail. Instead it was my friend whose daughter is my son's best friend. Phone calls in lieu of texting are rare so it was a pleasant surprise to be chatting with my friend. Then the tone changed a bit, she had something a little more serious to tell me; my four-year-old son is a flasher. He's going to end up in jail. His name will appear on the top of the sex offender registry—his entire life diminished to a glaring red dot on a neighborhood map. Property values will instantly plummet as families avoid moving in next door to such a pervert.
My sweet friend did not actually accuse Henry of anything, she just wanted to let me know that her daughter said he had shown her his penis. And just like that, the end of an innocence. These are the same kids who had, a few weeks earlier, gone outside during dinner at our house, took off all of their clothes and danced around naked as all of the parents laughed and thought how sweet and pure the whole situation was. But this was different, they were in her room alone together when the deed went down. We both agreed that we needed to have a talk with our kids without saying anything that will shame them. It sounded easy enough at the time.
It was my first time as a parent that I had that sinking feeling of dread because I knew something my son had done and he didn't know that I knew and I had to let him know that I knew. To be fair, he didn't even know there was anything worth talking about, he was just showing his friend something he had that she didn't. I'm thankful that these types of parenting situations start out uncomplicated; a starter kit for what is sure to become overwhelming and seemingly insurmountable teenage situations that I'll have to deal with/handle/manage/wrestle with/wish away/tell him to wait until his father gets home.
It saddens me that the first loss of innocence has already happened with my little dumpling boy. Yet it feels more pressing than ever to explain to our boys that just because they have penises doesn't mean others want to see them each time they want to show them, no matter how magnificent they think their penises are. And now I’ve basically written about children’s magnificent penises—there’s a special kind of icky hell inside my soggy brain that will chew on this until my inevitable dementia sets in. The time has come to be aware of even the most subtle behaviors that unwittingly tell our children that it is acceptable to violate another person's body. For the past few years I've asked family members to respect Henry if he doesn't want to hug or kiss them even when saying hello or goodbye. Because they love this boy and want to show it, this may seem like a silly request, but I believe it sends the right message from an early age. Although the intention may be pure, it's not ok to kiss or hug someone who is not open to it even though you want to show your affection for them, even if that someone is three years old.
Kids are soaking up more info than most of us realize. I was continuously surprised by the amount of information Henry picked up on as a toddler, from hearing something on NPR I didn't think he was paying attention to, only to ask me what "nuclear" means, to realizing his short temper isn't much different than my own. Young children learn so much from observing others' actions, the old "do as I say, not as I do" approach to teaching is not an option. We must emulate the behavior we want to teach, and often that means catching ourselves when we've done something inappropriate and repairing the situation. "Oops, it seems like you didn’t want that hug I tried to give you, next time I'll remember to ask you first."
Later in the day of THE call, I was relaxing outside in the crisp spring air for all of two minutes when my son came out and plopped down on my lap. I definitely acquired a strong magnetic field when I was pregnant because my son seems to hang onto some part of my body during most of his waking hours. I hear from other parents my age who have age-appropriate children (i.e teenagers) that I should enjoy these early years because in seemingly no time at all the hormones rear their confused, pimply heads, reducing the previously lovely child to a mean parent-hater, and then I will long for the days of sweet, innocent yore. I truly love most, or at least some, of the time I spend with my curious, funny, sweet child. As he snuggled into my lap, I told my four-year-old that every part of his body is special and there are some parts that are not to be shown to everybody, they're private... He simply said, "OK."
Ugh, my heart felt heavy with that little bit of innocence lost.
Aren't we all just trying to raise our children to be healthy, well-adjusted, caring, gritty, responsible, compassionate, honest, respectful, generous, conscientious, non-sex offenders? I’ve got this.
The phone rang and surprisingly, it wasn't the "IRS" telling me that I owe money and if I don't give them my credit card info right now they'll throw me into jail. Instead, it was my friend whose daughter is my son's best friend. Phone calls instead of texting are rare, so it was a pleasant surprise to be chatting with my friend. Then the tone changed a bit, she had something a little more serious to tell me; my four-year-old son is a flasher. He's going to end up in jail. His name will appear on the top of the sex offender registry—his entire life diminished to a glaring red dot on a neighborhood map. Property values will instantly plummet as families avoid moving in next door to such a pervert.
My sweet friend did not actually accuse Henry of anything; she just wanted to let me know that her daughter said he had shown his penis to her. And just like that, the end of innocence. These are the same kids who had, a few weeks earlier, gone outside during dinner at our house, took off all of their clothes and danced around naked as all of the parents laughed and thought how sweet and pure the whole situation was. But this was different, they were in her room alone together when the deed went down. We both agreed that we needed to have a talk with our kids without saying anything that will shame them. It sounded easy enough at the time.
It was my first time as a parent that I had that sinking feeling of dread because I knew something my son had done but he didn't know that I knew and I had to let him know that I knew. To be fair, he didn't even know there was anything worth talking about, he was just showing his friend something he had that she didn't. I'm thankful that these types of parenting situations start out uncomplicated. They're a starter kit for what is sure to become overwhelming and seemingly insurmountable teenage circumstances that I'll have to deal with/handle/manage/wrestle with/wish away/tell him to wait until his father gets home.
It saddens me that the first loss of innocence has already happened with my little dumpling boy. Yet it feels more pressing than ever to explain to our boys that just because they have penises doesn't mean others want to see them each time they want to show them, no matter how magnificent they think their penises are (and now I’ve basically written about children’s magnificent penises—there’s a special kind of icky hell inside my soggy brain that will chew on this until my inevitable dementia sets in). The time has come to be aware of even the most subtle behaviors that unwittingly tell our children that it is acceptable to violate another person's body. For the past few years I've asked family members to respect Henry if he doesn't want to hug or kiss them even when saying hello or goodbye. Because they love this boy and want to show it, this may seem like a silly request, but I believe it sends the right message from an early age.
Kids are soaking up more info than most of us realize. I was surprised by the amount of seemingly background information Henry picked up as a toddler; from hearing something on NPR I didn't think he was paying attention to, then declaring, "Dammit!", to realizing his short temper isn't much different than my own. Young children learn so much from observing others' actions, the old "do as I say, not as I do" approach to teaching is not an option. We must emulate the behavior we want to teach, and often that means catching ourselves when we've done something inappropriate and repairing the situation. "Oops, it seems like you didn’t want that hug I tried to give you, next time I'll remember to ask you first."
Later in the day of THE call, I was relaxing by myself outside in the crisp spring air for all of two minutes when my son came out and plopped down in my lap. I hear from other parents my age who have age-appropriate children (i.e teenagers) that I should enjoy these early years because in seemingly no time at all the hormones rear their confused, pimply heads, reducing the previously lovely child to a mean parent-hater—and then I will long for the days of sweet, innocent yore. I genuinely love most, or at least some, of the time I spend with my curious, funny, sweet child. As he snuggled into my lap, I told my four-year-old that every part of his body is special and some parts are not to be shown to everybody, they're private... He simply said, "OK."
Ugh, my heart felt heavy with that little bit of innocence lost.
Aren't we all just trying to raise our children to be healthy, well-adjusted, caring, gritty, responsible, compassionate, honest, respectful, generous, conscientious, non-sex offenders? I’ve got this.