My son, Addison, has a thing for textures.
He loves touching anything that is soft or fluffy or
He has offended several children at his preschool by
touching their hair or rubbing their ear lobes without permission.
Clearly, he hasn't learned about personal boundaries yet.
Yesterday it was my turn to be offended.
The sun was out. The air was warm.
It was time to pull the shorts out of winter hibernation.
I was laying on my bed reading a book when Addison came
and accosted my bare calves.
"Oh,Mom!" he said, squeezing my skin, "I love your chuvvy, chuvvy legs!)
(chuvvy chuvvy = chubby chubby)
"They are so squishy and bouncy. Like a trampoline!"
I promptly sent him out of the room calling after him,
"Don't touch mommy's legs!" in a high shrieking tone.
I was shocked and wounded and appalled. And shocked.
Squishy and bouncy?
Just thinking about it makes me tense up my calf muscles.
Someone needs to teach that kid that if you don't have something
nice to say than don't say anything at all.
Until that happens, I will be wearing pants.