I took Dash to a local library event so he could “Read to a Dog!” This was something that seemed like he’d enjoy it since he both loves books and likes dogs. We don’t see dogs regularly except in passing at parks and such, but he doesnt spend much time around them. We aren’t big on pets in our house, but I do want my kids to be exposed to animals enough to not grow up to have a fear of them.
I met a few other moms there and we helped our little ones to pick out books to read to the pup, a one year old service dog who was very sweet and calm. Dash looked on happily while another child read, but then became shy when it was his turn. I didn’t really care if he actually read to the dog, considering he’s three and his “reading” is really just looking at the pictures and making up a story to fit them. However, I had him hang around until he could have another chance to just go over and pet the puppy, which he was very happy to do. He wandered the aisles with me and we looked through a few books. As is the case nearly every time we go to the library, he rediscovered that most books don’t have pages filled with pictures, no matter how fun the cover looks. He told me this wasn’t a good idea, and they should fix that.
The hour of time allotted was nearly up, and the kids were ready to just play with the dog, so the guy who brought him let all the kids come over and swarm the poor little guy. As a result, all the kids just picked whatever spot was free, some were rubbing an ear, or the leg. I looked up from some small talk with a fellow mom and realized he was petting the dog’s junk. I laughed and pulled his had away, and decided to have a teaching moment I never thought I’d need to have. “We don’t ever touch the doggie’s penis, okay? It’s not nice.” The minute I sent him back to pet the dog, he went right back toward the crotch, but this time before he had a chance to make contact I went ahead and held his arm, and steered his hand to the shoulder. Several of the other parents giggled, the handler made comments about how that happens a lot. I was a little relieved to see that none of these people were looking at us like we were a family of dog molesters.
When we got home, Bear asked how it went.
“Your son tried to give a dog a handy.”
“Oh.” He said, obviously only half listening. Suddenly, what I said penetrated the distraction of the T.V. “Wait, what?!”
The look on his face was priceless.
…And this is the reason I use fake names for my kids in this blog. I can only imagine what kind of list this would put him on otherwise!