Spa Day

The kids have been helping me make Christmas cookies for our homeschool group.  They rolled all of the molasses cookie dough into balls and dipped into sugar.  Once finished, JT announced, "Wow!  My hands feel so clean and moisturized...whatever that means."

Poking the Sleeping Dog

The book I so painstakingly chose to introduce JT to the world of sex, bodies and babies has been gathering dust on the bookshelf for about four months now.  He claimed to have no interest in the book.  I decided it was time for him to read the book because I like to torment myself, think I know what's best for everyone have heard some things from JT that let me know it was time.  I sent Mo out to play with friends and casually tossed the Where Did I Come From book to JT, with a casual "got something for you" (very, very, very casual. I'm so casual), and walked away to continue with my housework. Shutup.Yes, I was doing housework.  Sort of. I did break out a bottle of Windex and go to town busily spraying any glass surfaces with in 10 feet of JT.  He sat in the armchair and didn't move for about 20 minutes while he read the book cover to cover. I cleaned all around him like I wasn't the least bit interested in what he was doing. If I got too close, he'd close the book to where only he could see the page - as if I had no idea what he was reading. I was watching his little face like a hawk, of course. Accidentally sprayed myself with Windex a couple of times because I was paying so little attention to my "work." When he finished the book our conversation went something like this:

me: Do you have any questions?

JT: NO, I AM NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT THIS. I WILL NEVER TALK ABOUT THIS. I WILL NEVER HAVE ANY QUESTIONS.

[He was not yelling, as the all-caps indicate, but he was quite adamant. His tone suggested finality.]

me: Okay, that's fine. By the way, there is nothing in this book that is "bad" in any way. God created our bodies and decided how we'd make babies. This is all very natural and normal.

JT: OKAY, MOM, BUT THERE WERE SOME VERY, VERY INAPPROPRIATE PICTURES IN THAT BOOK. I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS.

me: Will you at least tell me if you learned something new from reading this book?

JT: YES, OKAY? I LEARNED SOMETHING. BUT I WILL NEVER TALK ABOUT IT.

me: You don't have to talk to me. You can talk to Daddy. He knows all about this stuff, too. It's normal to have questions. You can't just know this stuff. If you ever want to talk, you can talk to me or Daddy.

JT: I. WILL. NEVER. TALK. ABOUT. THIS.

Could the kid have been any more clear? Why couldn't I just drop it? My poor kid is going to be telling his therapist about how his mom chased him around the room with a bottle of Windex while begging him to talk to her about where babies come from.

Wonder if this means he'll grow up to have perpetually dirty windows due to an aversion to Windex? I'm thinking that's a big, fat YES.