“Mommy, can I touch your boobs? I didn’t get to do it this morning. Pleeeeeeease?!”
At what point as a mother do you draw the line on your child molesting you? It’s starting to get weird, and slightly uncomfortable for me. I thought it was a phase (heavy sigh).
She is infatuated with the human body. It’s a healthy and very innocent curiosity that certainly highlights her personality and free spirit. I want her to feel comfortable asking questions and I try to answer them as truthfully as possible given her age. That said, she doesn’t think and/or live her life like a normal six year old. She sees the world differently than most. It’s fascinating, yet mildly troubling at the same time.
Despite valiant parental efforts, personal boundaries are nonexistent in her world. If she had her way, we would move to a nudist colony and set up camp. She would’ve done well in the sixties no doubt.
It’s not like I parade around naked in front of my children either. I specifically try to avoid it now given the circumstances. She can be sound asleep when I get in the shower and as soon as I step out, she appears out of nowhere like one of those god damn sneaky black cats. It’s like she has a sixth (i.e. sick) sense or something. “Boobies!”
I guess I should just say “no” when she asks to grope me, but what kind of message is that sending to her? I certainly don’t want to create a scenario where she bottles all of her inappropriate urges inside until she is 18 and then all hell breaks loose and I am stuck dealing with an adult child who is now on a perverted path of self destructive and only became that way because I didn’t let her touch my boobs when she was six. I refuse to carry that kind of guilt with me to the grave.
“Fine, cop a feel. You have 3 seconds.”
Her expression is as if I just surprised her with a visit to the unicorn petting zoo. Every. Damn. Time. One would think that the novelty would wear off, but sadly it does not.
It’s not that big of a deal, right? Well, it wasn’t that big of a deal until I found out that she has started to branch out. I guess I don’t blame her for looking elsewhere. My boobs suck.
Poor Grandma. I should’ve warned her.
Dear Freud, please help me.