More specifically, I taught him that lifting girls’ skirts is funny, even (especially!) if they pretend not to like it.
Thank goodness he’s so good looking and he’ll get as much as he can handle, because the heady mix of Oedipal crap and mixed signals I keep administering must be a pretty sure recipe to create a future date rapist.
I don’t know why whenever I try to spend some quality time with C and, you know, play with him like a good parent should, we end up coming up with games as fraught as this one.
I’m a shrimp and I was wearing a maxi dress, so I decided to do a stupid little song and dance about how “Mama has no feet! Mama has no feet!” because they were nowhere to be seen.
How it evolved into training for date rape beats me. I guess I brought it unto myself for wearing that dress?
Sheesh… And I thought raising a boy would be easier!
Time to cut down C’s Stone Temple Pilots allowance. Just in case.