Wax On, Wax Off

Yeah, I went old school.  'Cause I'm old.

At 13 years old, Conor sometimes has trouble with the fact that he is growing up. Part of him still wants to snuggle and cuddle with mommy, sleep with a night light on, and watch Caillou.

"Big boys don't sleep with their mommy," he says wistfully as I put him to bed.  "No, Conor, they don't," I reply.

Like a very young child, he often finds comfort in close physical contact with me. Combine that with his obsessiveness, hormones, and lack of boundaries, and, well, it can get a little uncomfortable.  For me, anyway.

This has culminated in his simultaneously hugging and snuggling with me while he also tries to surreptitiously touch various parts of my body. He wants to touch my neck, the crook of my arm, the back of my knee, my jiggly-soft belly. He grudgingly settles for holding my hand and kissing my cheek.

Honestly, he's not buying it.

Blocking his repeated attempts to touch me, half the time I feel like I'm Ralph Macchio--wax on, wax off, sand the floor, lock wrist, side side, paint the fence.

Look eye, always look eye!

They really get going around 1:48.




You know, maybe it's just that he's still a little boy in his mind and, let's face it, little kids grab you in all sorts of uncomfortable places. (I swear, they're born knowing how to give you a purple nurple. And don't get me started on nursing when the teeth come in, the little vampires.)

I'm really not quite sure. But he's not 5 years old anymore, at least not chronologically, and I need to continue to try to teach him age-appropriate behaviors.  And from what I remember, 13 year old boys are not obsessed with touching their mom's antecubital region, know what I mean?

A few weeks ago, I was helping Conor get ready for bed. I floss his teeth each night after he attempts to brush his teeth.  By necessity, we stand close together.  (Although I guess I could put him in a chair and play dental hygienist. Wait, that sounds bad.)

That night, Conor tried to touch my stomach again. I quickly moved away and tried to initiate some conversation.  I want him to like the things that come with getting older, like acne and body odor, so he focuses less on what he's leaving behind.

(Yes, I know it's hard to not be able to lay your head on mommy's soft belly while you lounge on the couch and watch Blues Clues, but look...  You get braces! Whoo hoo!)

"What do you like the best about being a big boy, Conor?" I asked him, as I moved a few feet away.

"Because I am special," he replied, looking at me directly.

"Yes, you are," I said, moving back and giving him a big bear hug.  "You are special.  Let's go brush your teeth again."

And thankfully, he just wrapped his arms around me, hugging me back.  And didn't even try to touch my popliteal fossa.  Progress!