Don’t touch, it’s my ‘zizi’

Preliminary note: if adult themes make you uncomfortable, you might want to skip this one.  G, P and L, if this blog is still up and running when you can read, definitely skip this one! 

Two things make me shriek, turn red, and want to disappear forever: porn movies and masturbation.  I have never watched the first and never performed the second so just imagine my face when my twins’ fave words became ‘zizi’ (French for boys’ weenie) and ‘zezette’ (French for girls’ weenie, at least according to DH who corrects me every time I say ‘P’s zizi’. The man  still thinks my dream is to raise gender questioning kids).

It all started very cute with G telling his zizi to go to sleep when it was erected. Then it became a little disturbing when G started to put his finger in P’s zezette and P started to pull her brothers’ zizis. Now, it’s like: ‘OK, mama does not know what to say. Mama is going to sleep now and wake up when you are a teenager after some teacher will have taught you guys everything about zizi and zezette‘.  A little extreme?

Well, yesterday, as I was cleaning poop out G’s buttocks, he started to yell: ‘don’t touch it, don’t clean it. It is MY zizi.  MY zizi!!! Clean here (pointing at his anus)’ I was speechless. It seemed like something you would hear in a Gay porn (I am probably going to regret writing these words on my blog when I start receiving links to home porn movies or something like that). This was really wrong, really, really wrong.

Then, after her evening bath,  for the last three days P has been telling me:
‘I am going to look at my zezette so I  am going to turn my back. Don’t watch! I’ll tell you when I am done’. So here I am standing with her clean diaper waiting…while DH behind me is melting from embarrassment.

Sexual discovery is part of their development and we knew it was going to start some time. What really amazes me is that despite their young age, they have already a very developed sense of personal privacy and what is theirs.  This reinforces me in my thoughts that children’s instincts when it comes to the violation of their soul and body should always be nurtured and trusted because they are excellent.  Often I think about how I should, later on, talk to them about sexual predators (paranoid mama, I know…). Observing them now makes me realize that perhaps the only thing I may need to say is ‘love your body, love your soul and if it feels something is not right, it probably isn’t. Trust yourself, get out of there and make sure you tell us about it.’ All this thinking while holding a clean diaper and waiting for P to turn back with a huge smile. Not bad, mama, not bad.

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