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Graves snapped his fingers, and the house elf came to the call immediately. Percival's relationship with Finley was warm - it was not a novelty for him to win over his subordinates. A little personal involvement, a bit of severity, diluted with humor - and they were ready to follow him into fire and water. The kid was trying to be familiar, got on the ears and did not break the chain of command anymore - well, almost. For such exemplary behavior, Graves even gave him a week's salary. “Finley,” he said, thrusting his hands into his pockets and tilting his head slightly to one side. “What is this, the troll would take me? .. In front of Graves, on the floor, stood a tub - a large, knee-high, made of fresh planed planks in a tight iron hoop. She gave off a faint smell of wet wood and soap. The elf moaned with a look of anguish on his face and grabbed his ears. “What is this ... thing,” Graves said with an indescribable expression of astonished disgust and barely touched the tub with the toe of his boot, “does it in my house? .. Are you doing laundry here? .. The elf moaned desperately, shaking his head. “Get rid of her,” Graves said. “Mld-mstr-Krdns,” the elf muttered, bowing his head. “I couldn't make out anything,” Percival winced. - Speak more clearly. “Young Mr. Credence! ..” exclaimed Finley. - This is his request! .. He said - it is very necessary! .. I got it! .. Graves stared at the tub, wrinkling his forehead. - So, and ... what does he do with this? .. Launches boats? .. - Prnmt-vnu, - the elf muttered. “Finley, do you have gum in your mouth? Graves asked displeasedly. - Answer clearly when I ask you. Why does Credence need this ... bucket? - To take a bath! he exclaimed desperately. - Sorry, sir! He didn’t want you to know! .. He was very embarrassed! .. I would be silent if he asked me, but he didn’t ask, although he really wanted to, otherwise I would be silent and not say a word to you! .. "What ... Bath? .." Graves asked indignantly. - And what does not suit him ... He cut himself off. He took a deep breath, like a deadly tired man, and looked sternly at the elf. The latter pursed his thin lips guiltily. “It's too beautiful, isn't it? ..” Graves asked resignedly. Finley nodded, eyebrows raised in sympathy. - Mister Credence said that he is afraid of ruining something, and then you will be angry and he will be very sad. “Okay.” Graves rubbed his forehead. “Don't do anything about it yet. I'll deal. He raised his head and looked around. It was completely out of my head why he even went into the kitchen. He scanned the cabinets, the sink, and the butcher's table, but he couldn't remember. The damn tub confused all thoughts. He frowned, remembering how he went down the stone stairs to the basement, scrolled back the last fifteen minutes, but that didn't help either. The situation was extremely delicate, and it was worth approaching it with great care. We must somehow make it clear to Credence that he should not be afraid of this house. That the bathroom is for both of them, and he does not need to wash in a wooden trough, heating hot water in a saucepan and pouring himself from a ladle. It's ... humiliating after all. Graves felt himself in a quandary. With Credence, of course, you need to talk immediately, but even thinking about it was embarrassing. Percival always perceived any hygiene issues as something so intimate that it is allowed to discuss it only once, in infancy, and exclusively with a parent of the same gender. Weaning Credence from a safety razor is another matter, a young man learns this already at a conscious age, and it is not a shame to give him some advice. But to teach an adult guy to use the bathroom! .. It's his own fault, - he told himself vindictively. The boy acts as best he can, and he is ashamed to ask you. Or afraid, it doesn't matter. Graves wondered if Credence was generally trying to stay out of his room for no reason. He turned curiously from room to room if Percival was there, but he only went out into the garden on his own to play with Hope. He needs time, he reminded himself. - Get used to it. The bathroom was not austere, but Percival would not have called it luxurious either. Strict, elegant, beautiful. White brick tiles, black floor, two sinks, two mirrors. Daily supplies were on the shelves. Monochrome towels, black and white, hung in rings on the wall. Graves sat on the edge cast iron bath , tried to imagine how Credence sees her. What can frighten a boy who grew up in a poor orphanage here? .. Probably ... everything? .. Too white walls, too beautiful forged frames by the mirrors, too soft towels. Probably, he is afraid to even take them in his hands. Graves was confused. Since he brought Credence here, their communication has improved pretty quickly. The boy was no longer afraid to smile, he even tried to joke. I learned to ask questions, say what he thinks and even what he wants. He was generally very smart. It took a hell of a lot of patience with him, of course, but Graves saw the result of his efforts. But it seems that not with every question Credence was ready to come to him. Fear or ... pride interfered. Surely. He doesn't want to appear stupid or ignorant. Okay ... so he has another lesson ahead of him. Credence usually kept the door of his room ajar — which Graves usually saw as an invitation. “Credence,” he tapped the jamb with his knuckles. - Are you busy? “No, sir,” he said. He sat on the bed with his back against the wall and his knees tucked up, reading The History of Magic. The thick tome seemed surprisingly appropriate in his hands. Graves pursed his lips and thought he didn't know that about Credence either. Does he like to read? .. What did he read before? .. The Bible could not be mentioned, but was there something other than it? .. Fairy tales? .. Adventures? .. Graves told Credence to read one chapter after each class, and then retell what he remembered. Apparently, now he is already ahead of pages fifty. Out of interest or out of boredom? .. Graves leaned his shoulder against the frame. He did not cross the threshold of the room without an invitation - only in the evenings, coming in to kiss the boy before bed. He was always waiting for him, already lying in bed, not taking his eyes off the open door. They talked about the events of the day, which were mostly not very significant and related to everyday trifles, chess or magic. Sometimes Credence literally bombarded him with questions. Reaching out from under the blanket, he held Graves by the finger, timidly and persistently at the same time, and looked with huge black eyes, curious, like that notorious cat. Sometimes it seemed to Graves that Credence was deliberately hoarding questions so that he would not let him go any longer in the evening, as if he was afraid to fall asleep and find out in the morning that Graves had disappeared somewhere. Then they kissed, and quite often it ended up with Percival having to whisper a cleansing spell to dry out the semen stains on Credence's pajamas and blanket. I never had a chance to apply it to my clothes. For some inexplicable reason, Credence was so impressed with the first experience that he rushed to lick Graves' sperm off his fingers every time, as if it were his main pleasure. Closing his eyes in inspiration, he held Percival's hand, sucked his fingers one at a time and licked his palm for a long time, almost reverently. He sighed deeply and relaxed after and fell asleep quickly, with a quiet smile that remained on his lips even in sleep. Graves was surprised that he himself was not drawn to advance beyond innocent caresses. Each time they kissed for a long time, and he frankly enjoyed the way Credence learned to respond. Any muffled groan of Percival was a praise for him, and he was so bold that he touched him himself - he put his hand on his knee, stretched to hug him by the neck, drawing him to him. Once he timidly ran his fingers over short hair on the back of his head - Graves moaned into his mouth with unexpected caress, Credence gasped in amazement, opened his eyes and almost laughed with happiness. Except for evening conversations and kissing, Percival did not cross the threshold of his room, always staying outside the door. Credence hardly understood why this was happening. Maybe I should have told him, "I won't come in to you without an invitation," but Graves felt that in this case, actions are more effective than words. Even if Credence didn't know he had a right to privacy, it was enough that Graves knew it. “Do you like the book? ..” Percival asked. - Very, - he smiled softly. - Pictures are so ... alive. - Do you like read? - Mary Lou made us read aloud moralizing stories, - he dropped his eyes, bowed his head to his shoulder. - About how virtue is saved, and vice is thrown into hell and suffers terrible torments. “I see,” Graves said, pursing his lips. - There is a bookcase in the study where we study. “I saw, sir,” he nodded. Graves reached into his pocket, fumbled for a small change, and conjured up a transfiguration spell. He really wanted to say, "Credence, my boy, if you love to read, I will take you to Flourish and Blotts, and we will spend the whole day choosing what you like." Instead, he pulled his hand out of his pocket, unclenched his fist, and levitated a small key on a chain onto the pages of History of Magic. “I give you permission to take books from the first shelf,” he said. “Thank you, sir,” Credence smiled happily. For now, he needed restrictions, contrived, ridiculous restrictions. He could not understand what "everything is possible except that which is not allowed." He only understood "everything is impossible except what is possible." You can laugh, you can take new books, you can take whatever you want from the table, you can talk while eating, you can learn magic, you can kiss, you can touch yourself "there", you can ask questions, you can want, you can play, you can joke, you can ask ... Graves added more and more "can" and each time was amazed at how many more will be required. - Do you need me, sir? Credence asked, seeing that Graves was not leaving. He was clutching the key in his hands and was clearly going to go to unlock the closet. A little later, my boy, Percival thought. - Yes, I need you. Follow me. Credence got up, tugged at his jacket out of habit, although it was sewn to his figure, and it did not need to be constantly pulled down so that it would not fold into folds. He followed Graves into the bathroom and stopped. He looked around with restrained curiosity, as if seeking a clue as to why Graves had brought him here. Percival sat on the side of the tub, one leg extended, beckoning Credence over to him. - Sit next to me. He approached, turning a little pink. He sat down, spreading his knees. He clasped his fingers together with excitement. - It's beautiful here, isn't it? Graves asked quietly. - Very ... very, sir, - he was embarrassed. - In my house in New York ... it was even better. Credence glanced sideways. “How much better… sir? ..” “More spacious… lighter,” Graves said. “But when I thought that you would also live here, I wanted you to feel comfortable too. “I’m very comfortable ... sir,” he blushed predictably. “I want you to use this room for its intended purpose, Credence,” Graves said quietly, without turning his head. "I ... use," he whispered, barely audibly, clutching his palms between his knees. “Am I doing something wrong ... sir? .. The dying whisper was full of guilt and pleading for mercy. Graves put his hand on his knee, stroked it reassuringly. Credence exhaled, but was in no hurry to unclench back. Graves paused, searching for expressions - the last thing he wanted was to hurt the boy’s dignity. “This is what I was thinking,” he said thoughtfully, continuing to rub his knee with his palm, “you are not used to magic around you. You just started getting to know her. “Sorry, sir,” he whispered, clearly just in case. “There were no miracles where you grew up,” Graves said. And snapped his fingers. The rain rustled behind him, loudly hitting the cast-iron walls. Credence turned and stared at the small storm cloud that was gathering over the bathroom. The water poured out in a stream, but, as if by magic (although why - how? ..), the spray did not fall on the floor. “I'll teach you this spell,” Graves said, “but later, when you can measure your strength. Otherwise, instead of the usual rain, you will cause a storm. Credence raised his hand to the rain wall, held out a handful. The cuffs and sleeve are immediately wet. “It's warm ...” “Of course it's warm,” Graves nodded. - But for now it is too difficult for you. So this is what I thought. ”He turned to face Credence, gestured to stop the rain and reached for the handles of the bronze faucet sticking out of the wall. - It will be easier. There is hot water- he turned the handle without touching it - and cold. As much as you need. Credence sat with his eyes downcast, crimson as an autumn peony. He clumsily fingered his wet sleeve with his fingers, bent his head to his shoulder and was silent, blinking. Graves reached for the stream of water, held up his fingers. It was very warm, almost hot. A faint steam began to rise from the tub as Percival plugged the drain. Unbuttoning the cuffs, Graves pulled the cufflinks out of the slits and rolled his shirt sleeves up to the elbows, trying to maintain a calm, almost detached expression on his face and ignore the pleading looks. It is not known what Credence was thinking now, but Graves was sure that the boy was ready to sink into the ground with shame and fear. Therefore, he did not meet his gaze and continued to pretend that nothing special was happening. If he was now at the Council in MACUSA, naked or in some monstrously ridiculous form, for example, in only socks and underwear, it would be easier for him to keep his face than now - sitting next to Credence, concentrating on rolling up his sleeves and talking about how to use the bathroom. Graves sent the cufflinks onto his towel, folded neatly on the wrought iron bookcase by the window. Summoned a glass box from the shelf, filled with small multi-colored balls that looked like candy canes, threw back the lid. “Look,” he said calmly. Credence raised his eyes and shoulders at the same time. “Give me your hand,” Graves said. Credence held up a hand, pressing his head into his shoulders even more. “It's lavender.” Percival put a light purple ball in his hand. It was shiny and hard as glass. - It's a chamomile. - The second ball was greenish-yellow. - Lily of the valley. Cedar. Orange flowers. Bamboo. Credence was holding six clear colored candies in his palm, his fingers twitching slightly, trying to tighten. “Pick any,” Graves said. "I ... I don't know," Credence whispered. “Okay,” Percival took the lavender and bamboo balls from his hand, showed them both: “Choose. Green or purple? Credence ran his eyes from one to the other. "I ... don't know," he repeated. Graves, forbidding himself to sigh patiently, took two others from his palm: “White or brown? ..” “White,” Credence breathed. - Yellow or orange? .. - Yellow ... After going through everything in pairs, Credence settled on purple. During the time while he rushed between different colors , the bathtub was more than half full, and Credence managed to get a little distracted from his horror. “Okay.” Graves calmly sent the box back, rolled the ball in his fingers. - It's lavender. Nondescript flower, if you pick one branch. It is grown in the south of France - this is in Europe, overseas. When it blooms, - he said thoughtfully, remembering the endless hills of Provence, and brought the ball to his nose to inhale the pungent smell, - in those parts there is nothing left but lilac fields under the hot sky. Whichever way you go, lavender will be everywhere ... He stood up and motioned for Credence to do the same. It was still awkward to look at the boy, but it seems that both of them have already somehow got used to the situation. “Throw it in the water.” Graves handed the balloon to Credence. - And see what happens. - Just ... quit ... sir? .. - he asked. - Yes. Just give it up. Credence jerked his stiff hand, and there was a resounding gurgle. And behind it - a light cotton, and above the water surface an airy gentle foam instantly grew, slightly lilac and dizzyingly smelling of lavender. Graves closed the faucet and dipped his hand into the lather, checking the temperature of the water. She was perfect, so I myself wanted to plunge into this tender warmth. He straightened up, brushed the drops off his fingers, rubbed off the foam on his hand. Credence stared in fascination at the wet dark hairs on the rolled up sleeve and blushed slowly. Percival… Percival, ”an inner voice whispered, so loud Graves could almost hear it. - Order him to undress ... you have wanted for so long ... You know what to do, order him ... Don't miss your chance. Come on, tell him ... Let him undress ... Let him undress ... I want to see him ... Shut up, Graves told himself distinctly. It's not fair, ”the voice whispered softly. - You deserve ... You did so much for him ... you have a right to gratitude. You want ... You want. Put him on his knees. He'll love it. He likes to lick your fingers. Let it lick your cock ... Let it at least lick it ... It's not difficult. He'll love it. He loves to jerk you off so much, let him more often ... Percival ... Let him lick. He has such a hot tongue ... Such beautiful lips. Let her undress. Tell him to undress, - an inner voice begged, - Percival! .. I really want to! .. He can already! .. He likes everything! .. He's already ready! .. Credence stood, hesitantly looking at Graves. “What should I do next ... sir? ..” he asked, biting his lips. “Take off your clothes,” he answered quietly. Credence staggered, lowered his face, and grabbed the buttons on his jacket. His ears were flushed. "Yes ... sir," he said quietly, unbuttoning his jacket. Graves closed his eyes, slipped his hands into his pockets, and turned on his heels. He inhaled and exhaled very slowly. Credence rustled the cloth behind him. Graves saw his reflection in the mirror out of the corner of his eye, but didn't turn his head to get a better look. Credence took off and folded his jacket. He pulled his shirt out of his trousers, unfastened the suspenders. The fabric rustled deafeningly. He unbuttoned the cuffs and buttons, Graves catching the color of his skin in the reflection before Credence took off his shirt. He dimly saw his naked torso - did not even see, but rather guessed. Credence undressed slowly and awkwardly. Turn around ... Turn around, ”an inner voice breathed excitedly. - Look at him ... Let me look at him, - he gasped. - I want to touch him ... What does he smell like? .. He has smooth skin... Kiss him there, near the neck ... Take it by the belt. Hug. Put your hands on your back ... Let him flinch. He will be naked. Percival ... turn around! Graves silently listened to the stream of incoherent delirium, which choked with his inner voice, strayed from an insinuating "you", then to a pleading "I." He didn't argue with himself. I just listened, standing upright, with my hands in my pockets. He wanted to turn and look at Credence so hard his mouth was dry. Out of the corner of his eye he watched him unbutton and take off his trousers, pulling out first one leg, then the other. How, bending down, removes and rolls up socks. In an argument with himself, Graves almost always lost. He knew himself so well that he could always find the most effective arguments. Therefore, it was impossible to argue. It was impossible to bargain. Just silently listen to how you howl in yourself with impatience: turn around, turn around ... Credence was left in his underwear. Awkwardly, he shifted from foot to foot, clarified: - At all ... sir? .. The inner voice was a beast, he rushed about chest trying to break out, he puffed noisily: absolutely, completely! .. He fought inside like a magic creature with a fiery tail, setting fire to his groin, face, palms ... Graves had known himself for more than forty years and knew how to win from himself by cunning. The main thing is not to argue. If you start answering, you will instantly find words that sound reasonable. For example, that Credence is so pleased with what is happening between them ... That he is already used to kissing and caressing, that he probably wants more, that he himself reaches out to touch, stroke ... That even if at first he is embarrassed, it's not scary - to masturbate for the first time was also embarrassing for him, but he got used to it, fell in love ... and he will love it too. That Credence would be happy to thank him. That there is no difference - he caresses his cock with his hand or lips, it makes no difference ... That anyway it will happen one day, so why wait? .. - Yes, - replied Graves, without turning. - At all. Credence slouched over to look even smaller. He grabbed the white cotton panties and pulled them down. I stepped over them. Graves' jaw and neck cramped from the effort - just do not turn your head, do not look in the mirror ... Do not squint your gaze to the side, towards the reflection ... There stood Credence, completely naked, his head down, covered with his palm. Graves saw him only out of the corner of his eye, indistinctly, but his brisk imagination drew everything that was missing - the relief of the shoulders, the protruding ribs, the flat stomach, the hard dark hair in the groin. “Go into the water,” Graves said quietly. Credence hesitated before stepping over the side of the tub. I got up, knee-deep in lavender foam. “Sit down,” Graves said. He exhaled - he didn't notice how he held his breath - as Credence sat up and the foam rustled, parting under his weight. Only the shoulders remained above the water. Graves waited a little longer and turned around. Credence was sitting, hugging his knees, looking warily down somewhere, his long neck arched. There were moles on the shoulders and thin collarbones, sticking out of the foam, like splashes of black paint. Credence blinked and stared at one point, his face motionless. Percival ... - whispered an inner voice. - You know what to do ... Sit next to me. Stroke him, let him relax ... Let him get warm. Then he accidentally splashes water on you, and you teach him a lesson ... He will like the punishment. He's afraid to make you angry. He will try ... And you will help. You will teach. Can you tell me. Affectionately ... Be gentle with him. You deserve ... When you shut up, Graves thought with weary anger. - When will you calm down, you vile creature. I will not give it to you. There is no hope. If Graves had not lived his whole life with this discordant choir, he would have thought that Grindelwald had left a particle of himself in his head. But no, it wasn't Grindelwald - it was himself. In childhood, which was, it seems, a hundred years ago, he was uncomfortable in a huge house, especially at night. The parents were consumed by social life, and when they went to pay visits, Percival was left alone. He watched furtively as they met in the hall before Apparate. Mother is beautiful, tall, thin. In a ball gown adorned with fresh flowers, with sparkling diamond aigrette in her dark hair. Father - in a black tailcoat, with early gray hair, powdered hair. They smiled at each other, she took his arm, and they disappeared until the morning. To pass the time and escape from the rustle of the gloomy house, Percival staggered through the empty dark rooms and talked to himself. Of course, he should have been lying in bed and sleeping, and not wandering around the house in his pajamas, but who was following him, except house elves? .. And they did not give out. He entertained himself with mental conversations, read aloud, argued with himself. Gradually it became a habit, and the habit became part of the character. Now, in the sound of his inner voice, he distinguished individual intonations. The prudent one, for example, was the most sarcastic and angry, but he was also the most useful when he had to get into a fight. Intuition spoke to Graves coldly, haughtily, like a child. There was also a capricious voice - Graves did not like it. This one always made his way in thoughts unexpectedly, with some regular "I want right now", sometimes introducing a major discord in the relationship between Reason and Intuition. At every opportunity, Percival vengefully refused him. Credence sat motionless, covered in foam, holding his knees. Graves stood behind him, took him by the shoulders with both hands, and pulled him toward himself. “Lie down. Credence obediently backed away, the water stirring and splashing onto the floor. “Lie down.” Graves hugged him by the shoulders, holding him in place. Credence's shoulders were wide. If you unfold him, straighten him, teach him to stand upright - I wonder how much taller he will be? .. by half a head? .. - Lie down ... - Graves repeated quietly, stroking his bare shoulders, and removed his hands. Credence breathed intently, tilted his head, glanced sideways at him, and did not move. Graves walked around the tub and sat on the side. He casually dipped his fingertips into the water. Credence looked warily at his hand, as if he was waiting for something, thin, closed knees sticking out of the impenetrable foam for a look. They turned pink slowly from the hot water. Graves wiggled his fingers, a chain of small soap bubbles rose from under them, huddled in a flock, reached for Credence's face. At the first moment he recoiled, then he saw that no one was trying to attack. He raised his eyebrows. Soap bubbles lined up and shattered one by one on his nose. Credence closed his eyes, pressed his fingers to his eyes, probably expecting the caustic soap to pinch. When I realized that my eyes didn’t hurt, I looked at Graze in surprise. He raised another flock of bubbles with a gesture and smiled out of the corner of his mouth. “I'll leave you now,” he said. “Will you ... leave? ..” Credence asked. He was clearly confused - now he didn't know if he wanted to be alone or if he liked the fact that Graves was sitting with him on the edge of the tub. - Yes, I'll leave, - he nodded. - I no longer need to clarify that I will leave the bathroom, and not from home or from you? .. - He raised his eyebrows, still smiling. "No ... sir," he replied, noticeably relaxing, and smiled more boldly. Then he caught himself: "How long can I ... How long can I ..." "Dinner at two o'clock," Graves reminded him. “Until then, you can do whatever you want. And here's what else ... - he summoned a hard sponge from the shelf above the bathroom, took it with his fingers by the string tied with a bow. - This yours. If you want her to help you, loosen the knot. - He untied the bow, and she slid over his hand, as if alive. “If you want to stop her, tie a knot on her tail. Do you understand? .. - Yes, sir, - he answered quite cheerfully and raised his palms out of the water to pick up the sponge. “So that's it,” Graves got to his feet. “If it’s more comfortable for you, you can lock the door when I’m gone.” - Close the door? .. - he repeated in confusion. “Yes, Credence,” Graves said quietly. - If you want to be alone, you can close the door. And then no one will enter you until you open it yourself. - And if ... - he turned pale, widened his eyes, - and if you come and the door is closed? “Will you punish me for closing the door? ..” “No,” Graves said calmly. - I'll ask if I can come in. “You can always come in, sir,” he said readily. “No,” Graves repeated. - I will always ask. He walked out with a short smile at the shocked Credence. He closed the door tightly behind him. He leaned against the back of his head and took a deep breath. After a while, I heard a quiet splash, the slaps of bare feet. Credence walked to the door on the other side. I waited. Graves held his breath to keep from giving himself away with his heartbeat. - Sir? .. - he asked in a whisper. Graves didn't answer. He waited until he heard the click of the lock - and only then closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. Well done.

Olga Kolyada, psychologist: Bodily communication with a child is a rather hot topic. The fact is that in adult urban residents, contact with their own bodies is usually very difficult - not through sensation and understanding of their bodily part, but through mental representations and understandings based on theoretical (that is, external to their body) knowledge ...

Therefore,

- establish direct contact with your own body, feel it, accept, understand, and then communication with other bodies, including the body of your child, will be much easier and more natural.

- honestly admit to yourself and share what you do for the child, based on his desires and needs, and what - for yourself. And try not to confuse this. Because the area of ​​"harmful" most often begins exactly where we follow our desires, not thinking about the child at all. The desires of the child are most often completely natural and harmless (with the exception of special injuries, and they are not often and not at all).

And now - let's deal with the myths on this topic.

Shared sleep

Good, or bad, useful, or harmful - there are a lot of reasons for each point of view. But which one is best for your child? This can make his body understand. Well, what the child says is also worth listening to if the age is such that the child is already talking. Well, it is also useful that your child's desires do not contradict yours, otherwise the child will not be happy.

But if a child, for example, says that he wants to sleep with you, but falling asleep begins to crawl or kick and pull away - most likely, the reason for the desire to sleep together is not bodily, and then it would be good to figure out what she (maybe attention want to, or afraid to sleep alone) and eliminate exactly the cause.

My two children and I have had different experiences of sleeping together. I slept with my son longer (in infancy), with a daughter - less. And then we had the experience of successfully treating diseases by sleeping together - up to 12 years old, when the child was very ill, with a temperature, one of us, the parents, went to sleep with him (well, or took him to him while they slept in a crib ). At the same time, the disease proceeded more easily and ended faster. Well, and it turned out one or two nights.

Bodily contact, especially with a child of the opposite sex, and sexuality

To begin with, if parents have everything in order with their sexuality, they do not perceive their child as a sexual object, at least until the start of hormonal changes in adolescence... The child does not yet perceive erotic feelings at all, because there is nothing. Therefore, in itself, bodily contact from the point of view of the development of unhealthy sexuality in a child is not harmful in any way.

What might not be helpful? If a parent for some reason has sexual arousal from such contact, this can be read by the child as disturbing tension. Or, if the child has a strong empathy, he can "remove" this state and translate into his own feeling. But with such a feeling, he will not be comfortable, it will strain and frighten, as incomprehensible and uncomfortable.

Well, and - with the exception of hygienic and technical procedures - you should not pay too much attention to the genital area of ​​the child, if he himself is not "concerned" with it. If you are concerned, you should find out the cause and eliminate it.

A child should not be fondled too much

The first question that arises is that “too much” is how much, in what to measure, and most importantly, who determines it? And the second question - how to caress, what do you mean? For example, a kissing theme.

Kissing children on the lips - if you feel how you feel, and not just repeat the pattern you see - it's strange. But in the cheek, in the crown, very small - in the belly, palm or foot - this is tenderness and play.

Ironing and hugging (my daughter, when she was little, used to say "squeeze", and that sounded more accurate, in fact) is very useful and pleasant. We calmly stroke domestic animals - cats and dogs, and in this on our part there is no eroticism and there is a lot of mutual bodily pleasure. The same thing is possible with a child. And pets, if you observe, after a while are saturated with affection, and leave. Children do the same. When bodily contact is enough for them, they begin to stop it, and they should not interfere with this.

If something different, strange happens, you can always talk to the child by asking a direct question - why he is doing this or that. And if necessary, contact a specialist for psychocorrection.

When my children grew up a little, the nature of bodily interaction with my son changed by itself. He began to avoid "gentle strokes", except perhaps on the head. But back massage became a favorite thing, and we also began to "fight" - that is, a new, playful, form of bodily interaction, convenient for both, came.

A child should not see parents naked

I would put it a little differently - a child should be able not to see his parents naked if it is unpleasant for him. Children are different - someone is indifferent to naked adults, someone is interested at first (after all, they are not like a child), and then they are indifferent, and someone is initially unpleasant. These are all variants of the norm. Therefore, on the one hand, you should not walk around naked in front of the child, and on the other, there is no need to unnecessarily strain and make a tragedy out of the fact that the child can suddenly find you while changing clothes.

"Parrot"

Mom, tell me if you know. We're 3.5 soon. And to any question, proposal, remark Sanka answers the same phrase. Those. - thirsty - he answers - "are you thirsty" or just "thirsty". This continues for about a month. I can assume that this is some stage in development. If very often he answers in this way, then I just take offense a little, then he stops for a while and apologizes.

Plays fabulous roles

My mom bought a book here about a bunny who was capricious and said to her mom "I don't love you", the bunny mom was offended and went into the forest, there she met wolf cubs who lived without a mom and cried that they would have a mom, well, they have a hare and stayed, and the hare sat and sat without mom and realized - it's cold without mom, hungry without mom, very, very bad without mom and went to the girl Masha and told her about the fact that he offended mom (up to this moment, almost according to the book).

So - my child is a very addicted comrade and often (almost always) he is someone, and if before such a phrase: I did not love you, then after this book - be-here. That is, he tries on almost everything he hears about himself and we have a game of I don’t love you, I don’t love my dad, etc. He speaks and waits for a reaction, we do not even bother about this topic, since I know where the legs grow from, and when he starts to play the fool out of control, he says that it is not him, but: the dog Rada, an uncultured other boy, a sparrow girl (who am I I don’t know) and all sorts of things.

Hits and strokes

The child beats mom. Mom says she was offended. The child is crying, runs to his mother. He says that he will not, reconciles himself and, at an opportunity, strikes again. His husband scolds him and says that you cannot beat me, that he will protect my mother. But he just checks, i.e. looking into the eyes hits and immediately strokes and says good. In general, it is difficult. But the main thing is that he does this only when he is not happy with my statements. In principle, this is a reaction to my inhibitions.

A comment

You are very misled by all his strokes and requests to forgive. For you, it’s like oil on emotional wounds, you start to think that he probably understands something and really wants to improve ... But alas ... Understand - for a child these strokes and "I will no longer" mean nothing! This is part of his game, part of his manipulation of you.

Breaks the rules

My eldest son (5 years old) worries me a little. He categorically refuses to follow the "external" rules. For example, it is almost impossible to play games with him. He does not want to play by the rules, and then generally begins to do something of his own with objects (well, with cards, for example). We took him to wushu for little ones. There is a great coach, a born child teacher. He really liked it at first. I was like a couple of classes, and then she refuses to do what she does in training. He just sits on a bench. He can theoretically read, but stubbornly refuses any attempts to read something. Etc. etc.

In kindergarten, for example, he often does something of his own in the classroom, not on the topic. Everyone sculpts apples, he - pies, etc. It's good that the teacher doesn't pay attention to this, but what should we do at school ???? At the same time, the child did not seem to be heavily pressured in childhood, they were not forced to do something, so that he does not feel like protesting. Where did that come from? Moreover, if the child is under pressure and some rules have to be followed, he begins to have nervous breakdowns, sleep problems, and constant whims.

Solution

Change the boundaries of what is permitted

Earlier, the child used the mother's template to evaluate the world. Those. my mother's "not allowed" and "allowed" were the boundaries in which it was safe. But now it's time to work out your own coordinate system. How is it usually done?

Correctly, it is checked for truth or in general, the coordinate system is the same. Those. where the boundaries were previously ACCEPTED, they are now beginning to be CHECKED.

Literally: Here, mom says you can't. And if you try, maybe she came up with this "impossible"? Maybe, in fact, it's not impossible, but you can? And if you can, how far can you? Doesn't it always work? Maybe yesterday it was impossible, but today it is already possible? Or tomorrow?

And this "work of the mind" in a small head must be felt, learned to accept and ... help in establishing these very limits of the possible. Those. you cannot refuse some - solemnly, because you are already big! Some to explain, some to shift a little: this is not possible, but this is possible. And more and more often it is not necessary to say. This is generally a magic word - it shifts the responsibility for the result onto the child.

General family policy

The mother and father, as well as other adults (grandmothers, grandfathers), should agree that their instructions do not contradict each other. There should be one main educator. And if he gives the child instructions, no other adult should provoke the child to their violations.

Strict daily routine. Make a schedule - with pictures so that the child can understand it too. When to get up, when to go to bed, when to walk, when the child can do what is interesting to him, etc. Stick to a schedule. Exceptions are very undesirable, especially at first. Later, small exceptions are possible if there are justifiable reasons (for example, to wait for the father before going to bed).

15 chose

Once our peaceful gatherings over tea and coffee were interrupted by the angry exclamation of a well-deserved teacher who literally burst into the department: "You cannot imagine what I saw now! What a horror! And this is a university! What a fall in morals!" We turned around in bewilderment: "What happened?" It turned out, returning from a couple to the pulpit, she saw a young man and a girl who were sitting on the windowsill and (oh, horror!) Kissing. We smiled, and another honored teacher with a dreamy expression said: "Ah! Kissing on the windowsill! How romantic! How I would like to be back at my seventeen!" “Well, what are you talking about?” The indignant woman continued. I smiled, remembering couples kissing (and not always young) in the subway, cafe, and just on the street. My MCH, for example, categorically refuses to kiss only in the theater, explaining that this is some kind of "wrong" place. And then I thought: really, we often just do not think about some unwritten rules, thereby violating the boundaries of what is permitted and provoking the discontent of others.

For example, food annoys me personally. Not by itself, because I really love to eat - students chewing in class annoy me. Just as in the days when chewing gum appeared, not only children, but also quite adult uncles and aunts considered it normal to publicly blow bubbles out of it, so some students for some reason consider it normal to chew chips and drink them with Coca-Cola at a lecture. Is that where they were taught this? Houses? At school? Or is there some kind of special etiquette book where it is written that this is possible? But the strangest thing for me in this story is that after the first remark, they sincerely apologize and never repeat this (at least in my presence).

And, of course, curiosity annoys me. Not in itself, I myself am interested in everything new - it irritates when a person is interested in something that has nothing to do with him. One colleague of mine, for example, spends all his weekends exclusively at the department, pretending to be busy checking the work and turning into one big ear directed towards the "tea mug" who was going to gossip during the break.

Another one has a desire to talk only at the moment when you sit down to work at the computer - she stands behind your back and carefully reads the text being typed, noticing even the slightest grammatical or stylistic error.

True, my MCH's curiosity is also annoying - after my birthday, he quite seriously stated that he would not give me gifts, offended that the surprise he had prepared was found by me three days before the planned presentation. And this is only because he learned to hide - I found a New Year's present a week before the holiday.

Do you have "boundaries of what is permissible", the violation of which annoys you?

Photo: admely.ru, devichnik.litehosting.org.ua, foto.mail.ru

Why not kiss children on the lips, change clothes in their presence, and what are the mental consequences of corporal punishment? We met with psychoanalysts Larisa Fusu and Aurelia Korotetskaya to talk about the boundaries of upbringing and how to be a “good enough mother” and a good father to your child.

Modern parents are faced with so much conflicting information and advice on raising a child that sometimes they simply do not understand what to do and how to do it right - primarily for the well-being of the child. We analyzed the most popular questions and discussions on women's forums and decided to find out the opinion of psychoanalysts on this matter: Larisa Fusu and Aurelia Korotetskaya.

Fusu Larisa Ivanovna - rector of the Institute of Psychology and Psychoanalysis at Chistye Prudy, psychiatrist-narcologist, candidate of medical sciences, psychoanalyst. Candidate (en formation à l "IPSO) of the P. Marty Institute of Psychosomatics, Paris.

Korotetskaya Aurelia Ivanovna - psychiatrist, psychoanalytically oriented psychotherapist. Candidate of the International Psychoanalytic Association (IPA)from the Paris Psychoanalytic Society (SPP)... Laureate of the State Prize of the Republic of Moldova for the best scientific work in the field of medicine (1992). Candidate (en formation à l "IPSO) of the P. Marty International Psychoanalytic Association of Psychosomatics.

Larissa, Aurelia, good afternoon! Thank you for agreeing to meet and talk about such an interesting and at the same time controversial topic as boundaries in raising a child. On the Internet, on various forums, there are many conflicting opinions about the methods of education and what is permissible to do with regard to your child and what is not ... One of these questions is: "Is it possible to kiss a child on the lips?" How would you answer it?

Aurelia Korotetskaya: I would start answering from afar: an adult and a child are two different people... They are arranged differently and perceive the world differently. An adult has not only a biological body, but also an erotic body - one that brings him adult pleasures associated with his adult sexuality. This is not available to the child. His erotic body should gradually mature, like everything else: hearing, sight, taste sensations etc.

When an adult kisses a child on the lips, the question may be asked: why is he doing this? Does he receive pleasure through his adult erotic body or is he trying to establish contact with his child? If we are talking about contact, then why did he choose this method? Psychoanalyst Sandor Ferenczi in his article "Mixing of languages" says that an adult must speak with a child in the language of tenderness, but should not confuse the language of tenderness with the language of passion. Because there are no mechanisms in the child's psyche that could allow him to cope with the passion of an adult. And this passion, on which an adult speaks to him, can become a mental trauma for a child. Imagine if a child at 3 months old is given a barbecue or sauerkraut... Yes, it is very tasty food, but for an adult. And for a child it is deadly. It is the same with feelings: what is good for an adult may be intolerable for a child. Because he does not have the mental ability to cope with the excessive arousal that arises from the fact that mom or dad kisses him on the lips.

What other actions of parents can overexcite the child?

Aurelia Korotetskaya: For example, when a mother caresses too much or washes her child too diligently, sleeps with the child - she does seemingly ordinary and necessary things, but puts a different meaning into it.

Many parents sleep with their young children. Isn't that okay?

Aurelia Korotetskaya: Until a certain point. And then you need to sleep in different beds. When this should happen - it is difficult to say: for someone a month, for someone at three or six ... In psychoanalysis, there is the concept of "a good enough mother." That is, there are no good mothers at all (smiles), but there are enough good mothers who can provide enough good care... This is a mother who feels the needs of the child, she herself does not understand how, but she feels that today has come the day when she can start sleeping separately from the child.

But definitely not when the child is already five years old (smiles).

Aurelia Korotetskaya: French psychoanalysts speak of two types of children: "day-child" and "night-child". A child of the day is the child with whom the mother interacts during the day, realizes her maternal tenderness and love with him, and at night she sleeps with her husband-lover, with whom she realizes her feminine passion. The child-night is the one with whom the mother sleeps at night, while all those feelings that should be intended for her husband-lover, she sends to her child. And the child did not "subscribe" to such loads.

: Unfortunately, moms are much more likely to excite than soothe their children. Therefore, such a night child usually grows up anxious, sleeps restlessly at night, can turn away and refuse to breast, stop eating altogether or even die. There is such an unexplained phenomenon as the sudden death of an infant. But most often it "pours out" into a symptom of some kind of disease or mental disorders in an older age.

Am I correct in understanding that the main function of the mother should be ANTI-excitement of the child? And what, then, is the function of the father in the family?

Aurelia Korotetskaya: Right. Leonardo Da Vinci has a painting "Saint Anna". Saint Anna sits on a throne and holds in her arms a mother and child - the Mother of God and Jesus. She, as it were, protects them from all everyday hardships - this is the function of the father. The overexcited child is contained by the mother, and the overexcited mother is contained by the father. If this model works, then there is no problem. A good father is one who loves his wife well, thus he contains her well.

I especially like the last thought (smile). Let's raise another issue that causes a lot of discussion: dressing up parents in the presence of children ...

It depends on what kind of dressing. There is dressing up with a demonstration of the genitals ...

Well, this is already a pathology!

: Pathology, but quite widespread. Let's build on what we hear from our patients. Honestly, at first the hair stood on end from such stories and from how often this happens in seemingly completely ordinary families. I'll tell you a case that we analyzed at a psychoanalytic conference: a 9-year-old boy returned from summer vacation and tells his therapist about how he and his parents were at sea and, including, they all went to a nudist beach together. The therapist says: "Wow, you probably saw a lot of children on the beach? ... Boys and girls ...". And the child answers him: "How do I know, they were all naked!" He couldn't distinguish! He saw them naked, but did not seem to see them. The perception of reality was damaged - such a strong defense against what this boy was not ready for ...

Maybe the child was not ready for this, because his parents did not explain to him in advance what a nudist beach is, and what is the difference between boys and girls ...?

Aurelia Korotetskaya: No child at this age would be ready! A child is ready for this only in adolescence, when he has his own interest.

In the same way as the first sexual intercourse - normally occurs when a person seems to be prepared for this. But how many adults remember their first sex well? No ... Because at this moment there is too much overexcitation, which is difficult to cope with. Many women describe their first intercourse as an act of violence. And then you start to figure it out - there was no violence. Why? It's just that this overexcitation was so painful that at that moment it was perceived as violence.

Parents also often reason like this: "I'd rather show my naked body than if my son or daughter spies on someone out of curiosity." Many parents allow themselves to squeeze each other in front of a child, make greasy jokes. This is a common occurrence. Some children themselves ask their parents to get dressed or go to their room, but in response, adults can grab them by the genitals, pinch their butts or breasts, say, they say, it's okay, this is normal, this is life, laugh.

Aurelia Korotetskaya: And this is a really serious trauma for the child. It will be very difficult for such children to enter into normal adult sexual and family life because in this place they will have a lot of mental pain. Them sex life it may move away for later, or even become impossible ... Or another option - they may start sleeping with everyone in a row, because as if nothing special is happening: this is not love, it is just the use of a naked body.

(there is a pause) Remember Ham from the Bible. Why is he called that? Because he saw his naked father and laughed at him. He saw something that cannot be seen. A child can look at naked peers, but not at adults ...

... and at the moment when he himself becomes interested?

Sure. Not when it is forced upon him.

Another boundary of upbringing is the punishment of the child. Modern parents know that you can't beat children, but not many can restrain themselves from spanking their child for bad behavior or not grabbing him in a fit of anger. Let's talk about the use of force in raising a child and how it can affect his psyche.

Aurelia Korotetskaya: Not everyone knows that the word "fuck", according to Dahl, originally means "beat". It was only later that we began to use it in a different context. And, as you know, what is in our unconscious is in our language. Therefore, hitting children and fucking children is subconsciously perceived as the same action - ...

…violence?

Exciting violence. Breaking boundaries.

Many parents who freak out on children say they were abused themselves as children. When they were still young, they thought that they would grow up and would never touch their children. But then they become adults and do the same things that they experienced in childhood. The strength of this unconscious drive is not under their control.

How can these “breakdowns” affect the child?

Aurelia Korotetskaya: The most harmless mechanism: if a father hits his son, then the son or his son (that is, the grandson) will sooner or later become a homosexual. Because hitting your son means keeping him in a state of submission.

Broken boys often become sadists, and girls often become masochists. If they beat him very hard and terribly, this can lead to dissociation of the personality. All serial killers are known to have been abused. This is a proven fact. Because the only thing that helps to cope with the experience of violence is identification with the aggressor. That is, the child becomes the one who beat him. He grows up and hits others in revenge. At the same time, he most often does not understand why he is doing this, but he still hits.

How can parents remedy the situation if they have already violated the boundaries of the child?

A: First, stop doing what they were doing. If you went half-naked - get dressed, if you put the child in your bed - don't do it anymore, if the mother threw tampons around the apartment or the father had condoms - stop. Close the bathroom and toilet while swimming, do not enter without knocking, etc. And don't look for excuses or explanations for your behavior, just stop doing.

Aurelia Korotetskaya: Secondly, refer to the specialized literature. Today there are a lot of good sources on the topic of upbringing: "On the side of a teenager" by Francoise Dolto, "Conversations with parents" by Donald Winnicott, films by Francoise Dolto on YouTube, many of them have already been translated into Russian. Our psychologists include the wonderful books of Yulia Borisovna Gippenreiter.

But the most important thing is to listen to yourself and learn to hear your child's needs. To become the very “good enough mother” that Winnicott spoke of: just follow the lead of your maternal intuition.

Of course, if the mother herself was not traumatized in childhood ...