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Tag Archives: inappropriate behavior in children

Play dates or Pre dates…?

“Mommy, we’re going to play in here. You stay out!” orders Julius, my five-year old with my four year-old niece Layla, standing behind him like muscle in a pink tutu. 

They are in my seven year-old son’s bedroom looking extremely cute and extremely suspicious.

“Hey, not so fast Bubs. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Stinky Pants.” My niece pipes up with the softest, sweetest voice. Think Snow White on helium.

“We’re just playing puppies, Mommy. Now go way!”

He almost pushes me out the door and then those extremely cute little rats move to shut the door in my face. Well, that’s not going to happen. I place a firm hand, stopping it. “Puppies, the door stays open. No shutting the door. Okay?”

“Okay!” They are just a few years short of rolling their eyes, but their “okay” is dripping in barely concealed superiority and irritation.

I give them a warning look, but it holds no bite, they are just so damn cute.

I leave them to play and walk into my bedroom to fold laundry. Giggling and hushed voices are my music. I fold a few shirts but their giggling is so giggly, I can’t concentrate. I sneak over and peer into the other room.

They are rolling around, like puppies, I guess. Or maybe like dogs in heat? I don’t know. They are innocent babies but still, it doesn’t look good. Yeah, we need to break this party up.

“Knock knock, little puppies!” I call out and walk into the room. “What’s going on here?”

Julius comes over, looking a little sheepish, but I’m not sure if it’s because I’m ruining the game or because I’m ruining his game, if you know what I mean. “We’re just playing puppies.” There’s a sheesh that doesn’t verbally come out, but I hear it.

“Okay, but no more rolling over each other. I don’t want any puppies to get hurt.”

“Okay.” They nod, their curls bobbing up and down in unison.

I head back to fold the laundry, but I’ve got my ear on the other room. There’s some pounding and running round. There’s a bunch of laughing and then nothing. Quiet. Too quiet. I realize I’ve paired three pairs of socks and I haven’t heard a peep from them. Time for a check in.  I pad my way over.

Oh no.

Layla is laying on the carpet immobile, her shirt is somewhat lifted and Julius has his hand on her belly.

“Puppies!” I call out a little too loudly. “What is going on here?”

Julius is quick to explain, “She got hurt and needed to go to the puppy doctor.”

Of course. I mean come on, they’re in nursery, but still, I was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable. We’re a close family, but we’re not into kissing cousins.

they really are the cutest couple of cousins

The cutest couple …of cousins!

“Listen pups, how bout we head downstairs and I get you guys a snack. You must be very hungry puppies. Maybe I’ll make s’mores?”

That did it. Both puppies were up, wagging their tails and bouncing over. Once again, sugar saves the day.

Later, Layla is back home and my older pups come bounding in from the bus.

“Mom!” Michael, my second grader yells, dropping his backpack and heading straight for the phone, “I made a play date with Sarah and Gillian.”

“Both of them?” I ask, although I shouldn’t be surprised. Michael loves the ladies.

“Yep, they’re coming over.”

And they do. Two adorable, sweet and shy seven year-old girls.

Immediately, the three of them pound up the stairs to his room. Boom boom boom. Slam.

Sigh. Here we go again. With three boys, I’m sensing big trouble in the future.

I walk the steps slowly, preparing for my second intervention of the day. There’s that cute giggling again. And it looks like the lights are out in his room.

Big. Trouble.

“Who wants s’mores?” I call out and open the door.

Well, at least they’re not related.

Michael and one of his best gals. Trouble. Big.

Michael and one of his best gals. Trouble. Big.

 

Stop trying to touch my boobs and I’ll give you a cookie

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.

Really, nothing to write home about here.

Really, nothing to write home about here.

bonbonbreak