The beauty of the body from a child’s perspective

I’ve shared before how I committed myself, come what may, that I was going to nurse my children for as long as possible, and ended up going 18 months for both of them.

Witchlette seems as though she remembers Witchling nursing, though I believe she only remembers the idea of it, because she was only 2 1/2 to 3 and I stopped about a year and a half ago.

Pause: how in the world did my two Littles get SO big in such a short amount of time!

So, Witchlette remembers, at least the idea. She knows that she has nipples and that nipples boobs make milk for feeding babies, and the milk comes from the nipple.

Witchling I am positive doesn’t actually remember nursing, but he has been exposed to the idea. He also knows boobs make milk and that milk comes from nipples.

He also knows that he has nipples, and therefore explains that he has boobs. When a ball hits his chest, he writhes in pain, sharing how much his boob hurts.

Today, while walking through Target holding his Iron Man lovie, Witchling very innocently lifted up his shirt and make slurping noises. I couldn’t have held in a giggle if I tried!

“Is Iron Man hungry?”

“He’s thirsty, so he’s having milk from my boob!”

It’s going to break his heart to know that his nipples don’t function that way, but it’s beyond sweet to see him love his lovies that way.

Boys of that age when I was little would be corrected. I mean, girls would have been corrected. That’s just not something that gets played. Those are private parts.

I’m so happy my kids are growing up in a shift. I’m so happy that my son loves his amazing body and everything it could do, plus more.


To not be

We are more and more settled into our new home. Our forever home. Because I’m not moving again until we retire, and the kids have settled somewhere on their own. No rush, but it will eventually happen.

My hope is that they settle within a half an hour from each other. Even if that settlement is across the country. I want to be ready and available to each of them equally.

But I digress…

My goal was to have the kids’ rooms settled first, because they were disrupted and it wasn’t their choice. I wanted them to have a semblance of normalcy again. The fourth bedroom of the house is their playroom so that our whole house doesn’t become play storage. As we have been unpacking, I have had concerns that there’s too much. I spent days fretting over toys.

Where to put them. How to store them.

I forgot that toys are for play…for the kids and me. Toys bring joy.

Our kids have “too many” toys because they have people in their lives who love them.

I don’t want to be that mom who spends all of my time fretting over what the garden looks like that I forget to smell the roses.

Hate is learned. So is charity. 

I’ve written before that I ensure my children understand what it means to give back to their community. Every few months, we donate to the food bank. I am looking into regularly making shoeboxes for women’s shelters. We also irregularly donate bedding to the animal shelter. 

Last week, we were playing at my mom’s house after work before heading home. Witchlette gave me a tattoo. She then charged me $5. And said all of the money would be donated to the food bank. 

She is able to generalize charity into her play.