A family's story

Message Understood

The other day Cole was running around sans pants. Truthfully, he was buck-naked. He often does that these days…side effects of potty-training, I guess. As he paraded around in all of his glory, he stopped, smiled at me, and pointed to his belly button. He labeled it incorrectly. I labeled it correctly for him, and then we started naming other body parts. Elbow. Knee. Tummy. Leg. Toes. He made the clear distinction that boys have a certain body part that girls don’t have.

He asked me to help him put on his underwear. I told him that he could do it by himself if he really tried. He sat down, pulled it on over his feet, and stood up to pull them up. He got giggly. He tipped over. He asked for help. I helped him up, and he pulled up his underwear. He was quite proud. In these moments, I sometimes will discuss the fact that no one should touch him in the “underwear region” unless  Mommy or Daddy (or sometimes his grandparents when they care for him) have to clean him up after a toileting accident. (Suffice it to say, when he has a poop accident, well, that stuff gets everywhere…) I also mentioned that the doctor needs to check it out during a check-up, but that the doctor is only allowed to check it when Mommy or Daddy are there. He nodded.

I asked him what he should do if someone, who isn’t supposed to, touches his “underwear region”.  He said, “NO!”. I said that’s great…and come tell Mommy or Daddy. He nodded again. He then said, “I say NO! and I wore them.” I tilted my head to the side and had a puzzled expression. You what them? “I wore them. Like this, RRROOOAAARRRR”.  That works…yes, shout NO!, ROAR at them, and come get us. “Ok, Mommy. I will.”

Message Understood.

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