One of Those Moments

I got stung by a bee yesterday, but that’s not the story I want to tell.

The girls were finishing up in the shower and the Bombshell was complaining. About something. Moaning that it hurt. I think the Mop looked at her strangely. That hurts apparently.

So I mentioned that I got stung by a bee, right in the middle of my back and I hadn’t felt the need to complain and cry (though I DID rush to school, pulling my clothes off asking friends to pull out the stinger).

The Bombshell said ‘I remember I got stung by a bee once. It really hurt.’

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘It was at the zoo, and the bee got caught in your hair.’

With my hand I made a little bee and buzzed it into her neck, where I playfully ‘stung’ her.

She slapped my hand away and looked me in the eye.

‘That is my private place and you shouldn’t touch me,’ she told me sternly.

I was taken aback. She’s almost six and I have been teaching her about private parts of our body. Anything that is covered by a swim suit, I have taught her, is her private body. Ditto for boys.

I didn’t realise though that she was wearing one of these.

Gently I said, ‘that’s not really a private place though, is it? Your neck...’

She paused. ‘Maybe not, but it is sensitive skin and I don’t think you should touch it without asking.’

A little part of me was mortified (she’s not even six!), but the predominant emotion was admiration that she was so clear on what she wanted. I was proud that she was protective of her body and prayed silently she was still as protective, say, at the age of sixteen.

With that she stormed off to her bedroom, where I found her ten minutes later, completely naked, legs splayed everywhere as she sprawled on the couch reading a book.

Clearly, I still have some lessons to teach. Luckily, I also still have time.