A few months ago, during bedtime with my four-year-old daughter Lily, she began to fidget beneath her blanket, her face a mix of confusion and curiosity. Suddenly, she exclaimed, “Mommy, I don’t like my nose down there. It feels so weird!” I was taken aback. “What nose?” I managed to ask, suppressing my laughter. She pointed to the top of her vagina, her face scrunched in disgust. “This nose!!!” she insisted.
Taking a deep breath, I recalled my approach to honest, age-appropriate communication. “That’s not a nose, sweetheart,” I explained. “What you’re feeling is called your clitoris.” Her eyes widened with surprise at the revelation of this new body part. I reassured her that it’s a natural aspect of being a girl, just like her hands and legs. I also shared that it’s okay to be curious about it and reminded her that her body is private. My little girl, half-asleep, simply replied, “Mmm-kay,” before rolling over and drifting off.
This experience is just one of many that illustrate my journey as a mother committed to fostering a sex-positive household. I vividly remember the moment I decided to embrace open discussions about bodies with my children. One summer afternoon during my first pregnancy, my stepdaughter Emma approached me with a burning question about periods. With the go-ahead from her parents, we launched into an enlightening conversation that opened the door to many more throughout the summer. We explored puberty, body acceptance, sexual identity, and consent, equipping her with knowledge and comfort to discuss these topics without shame.
From that moment, I aspired to cultivate the same transparent relationship with my own children. Today, Lily asks questions about everything from why buttholes itch to why she can be a cowgirl if she wants. My youngest, an 18-month-old son named Max, has no qualms about twirling in dresses or expressing curiosity about his own body. They know I’m married to their dad and that I identify as a bisexual woman. They understand the basics of childbirth, whether vaginal or via c-section, and what each entails. When I have my period, Lily excitedly announces her own “period,” eagerly wanting to wear a pad like mine.
In our home, we use accurate names for body parts. I believe it’s essential for children to understand their bodies without shame. So, vaginas are called vaginas, penises are called penises, and clitorises are, well, clitorises—not noses. When the time comes for discussions about topics like masturbation and sex, I’ll approach them with care and openness. My goal is to ensure they understand that exploring their own bodies is a natural part of growing up. I’ve started reading empowering books to Lily, helping her grasp the importance of body autonomy and safety. Yesterday, she even memorized a list of trusted adults to talk to if she ever feels uncomfortable.
My children witness their parents practicing self-love and body acceptance daily. They see us express love and work through challenges together. We emphasize that they will always be accepted no matter who they love or how they choose to express themselves. My husband and I aim to keep conversations about sex, body autonomy, and physical changes free from judgment and fear. It’s vital for my kids to feel safe discussing any topic, no matter how daunting it might seem.
Ultimately, my hope is that my children learn to celebrate their bodies as powerful instruments. They will always have a mother who exemplifies making choices rooted in self-worth and who listens to them, even when topics feel uncomfortable. Thanks to that infamous bedtime conversation, I’ll always cherish the amusing memory of my daughter’s accidental discovery of a “second nose.”
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