My sincerest apologies for being late this week. I was stuck when I was trying to find a topic to write about this week. Fortunately, Aboji has been in rare form and practically handed me a topic this evening.
I love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, kids music, sippy cups, juice boxes/pouches, fruit sauce pouches, pacifiers, Build-a-Bear animals, dinosaurs, cartoons and all kinds of other things that most adults don’t care about. I also love playing musical instruments, action movies, reading, using power tools, and wood burning.
I am intelligent and I know it. I am empathetic. I am responsible. I have to be. I have been taking care of kids since I was considered old enough to help in the nursery rather than going to childcare. I’ve been raising kids for over 17 years now, and one of them isn’t even biologically mine. I can go to the doctor’s on my own – I prefer not to so that I have some accountability, but that’s just a preference. I can even take my kids to the doctor’s on my own and describe symptoms and side-effects intelligently.
I am also silly. I get my niece’s and nephew’s names mixed up, so I give them nicknames. I make up little songs about random things – I made up a song about (finally) getting a Dremel for my birthday. I love to play Candy Land and get upset when I lose even though I know it’s a game of chance rather than skill. For Christmas when I was 18 I got a hobby horse and a Togepi that I later turned into a game of mini-golf.
I blend my love of childlike things into my adult life. I’ve been known to carry stuffed animals around with me for a day. When asked why by a teen, the answer was “Why not?” I don’t do anything improper as a little. I don’t do anything improper as an adult – at least I try not to.
So even though I am a little, that doesn’t make me a child. I don’t need to be told that the tv is too loud. I’m perfectly capable of recognizing that on my own thank you. I don’t need to be told that it’s time to make dinner on a school night. I don’t need to be talked down to. I don’t need to be snapped at when I’m trying to play and joke around.
I need to be able to see how loud the tv is before I adjust the volume. I need someone to start getting the ingredients out if I’m distracted when it’s time to make dinner. I need to be spoken to like the adult I am when I make someone upset. I need to be told, gently, when my jokes are hurtful or angering.
I can understand how being called Daddy or Mommy and being looked to for guidance, care and nurturing from a little can blur the lines. I can understand how acting like a child can blur the lines too. Here’s the thing, though: Since DDlg (MDlb, CGl, etc) is a kink, that means it’s part of BDSM. Since it’s part of BDSM, that means it’s adults only! Since it’s adults only, there are no children involved. Since there are no children involved, littles can be spoken to like adults!
Yes, talk to us littles like we are little when it’s appropriate. But always remember that we are always adults first no matter how much we wish we could turn back the clock.