It happened again during dinner. As I sat with my children, I noticed my son’s hand wandering under his shorts. “We don’t touch our bodies at the table. Go wash your hands and finish your meal,” I instructed firmly. He nodded, quickly dashed off to wash up, and returned to his food.
Young kids have a natural curiosity about their bodies. They explore without shame, disgust, or fear. To them, a body is simply fascinating. They experience no back pain or societal pressure—everything about their physicality is just a part of life.
The first time I observed my daughter engaged in this behavior, I was momentarily taken aback. I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. The last thing I wanted was to yell, “No!” or “Stop!” What lesson would that teach her? To fear or hide parts of herself? I contemplated it for a couple of days, and eventually she gave me another chance to respond.
“Sweetheart, we don’t play with our bodies in the living room,” I said. It felt a bit odd, but it was the truth. Why do we often resort to “we” statements with children? I explained, “It’s perfectly okay to explore your body, but certain things are private. The only places where you should do this are in the bathroom or your bedroom. If you want to explore, please head to your room.” She smiled and complied without hesitation, as young children often understand the concept of designated spaces.
The mantra evolved to, “We don’t eat in the bathroom, and we don’t touch our bodies in the living room,” and ultimately became, “We don’t touch our bodies at the table.”
I identify as a “sex-positive” parent. This doesn’t mean I discuss the joys of sex with my preschoolers; rather, I approach the subject openly and honestly. As parents, we often tell little white lies—about Santa Claus or how long a minute really is—but I refuse to mislead my children about sex.
I don’t want them to grow up with shame about their bodies or confusion regarding their functions. I steer clear of myths like cabbage patches or storks; I strive to be transparent about human reproduction. We often read books like Where Did I Come From? and What Makes a Baby, which cover a range of topics, from IVF to c-sections. We even discuss that, yes, mommy and daddy still have sex, regardless of conception plans.
Deceiving children about sex helps no one. Phrases like “sex is only between mommies and daddies” create confusion, especially during their teenage years. Such narratives can lead to misconceptions, where love is mistakenly equated with lust or obsession. How many tragic stories stem from that confusion?
The fact is, most people enjoy sex—it’s meant to feel good. If it didn’t, humanity wouldn’t survive. But sex is not inherently special or magical; it can happen between two strangers, and just because one can engage in it doesn’t mean they should.
True sex-positive parenting involves providing honest information rather than perpetuating myths to discourage behavior we deem unhealthy. It’s about conveying that sex can be pleasurable but also carries risks if not approached with care. We must teach our children not only to insist on protection but also to understand that while sex can be an expression of love, it can occur in many contexts—even with people you don’t love.
Sex can lead to pregnancy and disease, even with protection, so engaging in it requires a commitment to manage potential consequences. It’s imperative that children know they aren’t wrong or sinful for having sexual feelings, or even for having sex. It’s about equipping them with the knowledge to make informed decisions when they’re ready.
Sex education often falls into black-and-white thinking, with some believing that if children aren’t scared of sex, they’ll engage in it recklessly. Programs based solely on fear have consistently proven ineffective, leading to rising teen pregnancy rates in areas with abstinence-only education.
Telling children the truth about sex doesn’t equate to giving them permission to engage in it. The crucial point is that only they can grant themselves that permission.
When I say, “We don’t touch our bodies at the table,” I want to instill that sex is something that only happens when both parties consent. Ultimately, my children must decide for themselves.
I won’t dictate their choices, nor will I allow anyone else to do so. My goal is to teach them about boundaries, appropriate behavior, and hygiene. During our tickle fights, if they say, “Stop!” I halt immediately.
We discuss various topics, including pregnancy, using proper terminology like “uterus,” “sperm,” and “eggs.” Most of these conversations are brief and straightforward, but I know that one day, discussions will become more challenging. We will have to address issues like consent, healthy sexuality, and the impact of media portrayals of sex and body image.
I am prepared for those conversations when they arise, as I’ve laid the groundwork. “We don’t touch our bodies at the table” serves as a micro-lesson in boundaries, consent, and social norms. While I might not handle discussions about teenage sexuality with a straight face, I will ensure my children understand the importance of being thoughtful and safe.
As they grow, I want them to know that I’m always in their corner. I want them to feel supported, knowing that regardless of choices made, I will be there to help them navigate any challenges.
For more information on navigating fertility and family planning, check out this insightful post on couples’ fertility journeys and explore additional resources on wedding planning. The CDC is also an excellent resource for understanding pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, parenting in a sex-positive manner means fostering an environment of openness and honesty while teaching children about boundaries and consent—starting with simple lessons like, “We don’t touch our bodies at the table.”