Little boy, not so much.
We teach at home for many, many reasons. To be able to cater to each child’s learning styles. To have a really flexible family schedule to get to really be a family. To sleep in when I feel like it. Camp out in the backyard on a Sunday night, with their Dad. To avoid after school activities rush hour (that makes me cranky). And because I hate tons of worksheets.
But very primarily, because we dearly desire the children to be able to be children, while they are children.
And in our society, that’s tough request. Girls and boys are growing up, being exposed, earlier and faster than ever before. And at home, our children are free of the pressures of this going on around them (yup, it’s a bubble, and we love it). We can incubate them. Guide them. Protect them from too much, too soon.
Specifically when it comes to S-E-X.
And things, sexual in nature.
We protect from certain media images. Video games. Manga books. Even some PG movies. From the mall, for Pete’s sake, where a ginormous woman with ginormous breasts all pushed up in black satin leers at us from the wall outside Victoria’s Secret. For us, and I won’t cite references here, we believe the studies that suggest all kinds of detrimental effects on children from too much media. Specifically, too much sexually charged media.
So. Yesterday, for the first time, at 10 and a half, our oldest child learned about the nitty gritty specifics of just how he got some of my characteristics, and some of his Dad’s.
And, he was horrified. Actually shuddered. Said he couldn’t get it out of his head, the images! And we all had a good laugh together, as the Colonel and I explained, earnestly, that we had the exact same reaction, the first time we heard this bit of info.
He didn’t have a lot of questions. Yet. As I think he’d like to try to forget the entire affair. And I wish that the subject didn’t even need come up for another 2 years or so. Till he was actually beginning to experience adolescence. And would begin to not have quite the blessed childish perspective on it, that he did yesterday.
That’s not really afforded us.
In our society, we’ve waited about as long as we can, if we want to be the first to share, the way we want to share, the details of sex, and just how we feel God wishes we handle it. At 10 and a half, most kids are already figuring out, or have been told. Or worse, think they’ve figured it out, and want to spread the word. He has friends that have older siblings. Sure, parents tell their children to maybe not share such intimate info with buddies, but do our children always do what their asked? He has a friend who’s 18 year old sister is pregnant. And not married. We’ve told him babies come from marriage, and love, and the Lord. So now what? We have other friends, who divorced, and then decided to have another baby together. Explain that one, when Private One just said, they can’t help if God wanted to give them another baby. It just happens.
And he’s asked questions.
How come I have Dad’s cowlick, when I was in your belly?
Does the Dad cut his finger just a bit and rub it in the umbilical cord right as they cut it?
Or does he do a dance over you, like a rooster?
Did he hug me reeeeaaaaaal tight, right after I was born? Or hug your belly when I was in there?
So yesterday, it was suddenly heavy on our spirits, after toying around with the idea for more than a year. He thought he was in trouble, when we had him alone with us upstairs. I think he’d rather have been in trouble!
But I feel so grateful. Like we’ve won something. Reached a goal. As he gains on 11, he has remained innocent of this knowledge. Been a little boy, without the burden of carrying more adult info than necessary, when he was a little boy. Now, he’s beginning to transition, and we had the blessing and privilege of being the ones to talk with him. Share our perspective. Make sure the real facts were covered. Laugh with him when he was grossed out. Hey, you break down the facts like that, and really, it is not very pretty. Even though he doesn’t believe us now, we were able to tell him he will feel differently. Boy, will he ever.
He said it’d be easier, and less disgusting, to just cut his finger in the delivery room.
Yeah. He says that now. Just he wait and see.
In the meantime, I’m just so amazed at how quickly that time is coming. No baby boy here, any more.
