My four year-old son has this weird little obsession… with my boobs. No, I’m not like that New Yorker Magazine mom. The only thing my boobs do these days is hang, and I mean hang, around. But for Julius, it’s one of his many infatuations, right up there with gummy bears and Pokemon cards.
All my boys are full of mommy love, which I unabashedly encourage and soak up, but Julius shows his love a bit more ‘tangibly’ than the others.
Every night after the bed time books and tickle-back is completed, there’s another ritual of events that must transpire before I can leave his room.
“Kiss, mommy,” he demands, pursing his little, chunk lips for me to kiss.
“Hug, mommy,” is the next request, and he wraps his little arms around me, squeezing tight. I love it, but I know what’s coming. He’s been doing it for well over a year now and I brace myself.
Somewhere in the middle of his innocent little hug, there’s a boob grab. He does it quick, knowing exactly what he’s doing. When I gently reprimand, he looks at me with those big brown eyes and says, “I can’t help it mommy. I just love your boobies!”
What to do. What to do.
I’ve tried to distract him from his infatuation. At two and three, it was still cute and could be waved away as toddler silliness; but once Julius crept over the four year mark and his hugs began to have a groping feel to them, I’ve tried, unsuccessfully, to get him to stop.
So far, these are the techniques I’ve employed.
Threatening – I say, almost daily. “Julius, if you try to touch my boobs, I’m not going to snuggle in bed with you anymore.” The little rat always promises. Do not trust a rat.
Negotiation – “If you can go a week without trying to touch my boobs, I’ll take you to the toy store.” Apparently, Julius does not need more toys, or chocolate or extra Wii time. He’s got plenty, thank you.
Transference – Every time Julius goes for the boobs, I place his hands around my waist. He kind of likes it and will squeeze happily for a bit, saying, “Oh, it’s squishy, like your boobies.” Thanks kid.
Reason – We had the discussion about private parts. How he has his and I have mine. Julius’s response? “You can touch mine, if I can touch yours.” Sheesh. I’m in trouble with this one.
Although, his fascination to touch my boobs is annoying and will soon border on really inappropriate, right now, it still makes me smile. I know he’s almost five, but as my youngest, he still seems like such a baby; and even though my seven and ten year-old are very loving, I can see the day in the not too far future, where I am no longer the center of their affections. There will be girlfriends, then wives, (poo poo) and I feel the pain of that already, years into the future. I can only hope that they’ll still want to give their mom a squeeze, although a hug will do just fine.
Just last night, Julius, the teenager in a five year-old body, gloated, “Mommy, I know how to touch boobs. You go in for a kiss, and then you get ’em!” He smiled mischievously, like a boy who knows a big secret. And I guess he does.