So, while I am finishing up my masters, I babysit part time 3 nights a week.
The boy I babysit is 9 years old, and probably one of the sweetest and funniest kids ever.
Every time I leave, I think about how great it is that I get to hang out with one of the coolest people ever and get paid for it.
And he’s just a kid.
Just tonight, we were cooking dinner together, and randomly he asks me: “Miss Elizabeth, can you make a boy please?”
“Can you make a boy, please?”
You mean, when I decide to have children, can I have a boy?
Well, J, I know that when Brandon and I have kids, we can’t really control what gender it is.
“I know, but there aren’t any boys in my family and I REALLY want a boy to play with…so I was thinking that you could just make a boy!”
If only it were that easy…
I tell you what. That was one of the sweetest things I've ever heard. Not only was he saying that he wanted me to be around for a long time (long enough that he could play with my child!), but that I was, in a way, part of who he saw as his family.
‘But he’s just a kid!’ some might think. Could he really be thinking or feeling all of those things?
This is where I disagree with people who think kids are ‘just kids.’
Have you ever really sat down and considered the once popular saying :”Kids are to be seen, not heard.”
Like WORST saying EVER.
Are we for real as a society?
Kids will one day grow into adults (obviously). AND, kids feel much more than many individuals even realize. (Ever watched or read about play therapy? If not, it would convince you otherwise). If we don’t allow them expression as children, how will they learn that their thoughts are valuable and that they have immense worth as a person??
I think the reason why J felt so comfortable asking me to ‘make a boy’ was because I have allowed him the free expression that he needs. I have always encouraged openness and honesty with me, and applaud him when he chooses to speak his opinions.
This also leads to some REALLY interesting conversations.
Prime example: He has lately been putting his hands down his pants. Both his parents, as well as I, told him that he needed not to do that in public.
So, about a week later, I remark to him that he has been doing such a good job with keeping his hands out of his pants.
His response to me?
“Yea, well, my doctor gave me a cream to rub on my weiny. I think I kept wanting to touch it all the time because my weiny kept getting sticky. But now that I have the cream? It feels weird to touch it, so I don’t like to anymore.”
Seriously kid? WAY too much info.
I couldn’t help but crack up.
He was clueless as to why Miss Elizabeth was laughing so freaking hard.
However, even considering conversations like these, I wouldn’t give up the opportunities I have had to allow him to be so open and honest with me. About anything.
Even if it means he talks about his sticky weiny and weird feeling lotion.
Or even asks me to please ‘make a boy’ for him.