The title of this post is very sad to me. Last night my son and I had another conversation about who is allowed to touch his body, when, where and why.
It is not the first time that we have spoken with him about his body and appropriate contact versus inappropriate contact. And we know all too well that this is not a new phenomena. There have been sick individuals around for many many years now, the biggest difference is that the topic is no longer taboo.
But even though I know this it still made me sad to have to speak with him about this. To try and make sure that he understands that he is special and that his body is special and that he should be treated a certain way. And to try and do this so that he is not scared, but aware was a little tricky, or at least it felt that way to me.
As I read him a book before he went to sleep he told me that there were monsters in his room and asked me to beat them up. It is kind of a silly little ritual we have. I yelled at the first monster and he ran. The second one was bigger so I had to punch him in the nose and the third one got kicked in the tuchus and sent scrambling out of there.
Within moments he was asleep with a smile on his face.
Most of the time I feel very good about life and very confident that we will just roll with the punches as they happen. Last night was one of the moments in which I was less confident because I know that there are monsters out there that are not afraid of his daddy, that are not afraid to do terrible things.
So I sat on his bed and watched him sleep and then I blessed him and said a small prayer asking for help in keeping him safe when I am not around to do so. And with that I walked out of the room but left a small part of me behind just in case.