Tuesday, April 19, 2005



I like to be touched when I walk hand in hand with my best friend.
I like to be touched when my mom kisses me good night and tucks me into bed.
I like to be touched when my brothers, sisters, and I wrestle on the rug.
I like to be touched when my dad comes home and gives me a big bear hug.
I like it when my grandma let me sit on her lap when she taught me how to sew.
I like to be touched and cuddled but not, by someone I don’t know.
I do not like to be touched, by anyone on my private places. I can tell them no and quickly run away.
If anyone tries to touch me and it makes me feel strange or sad, I know that it’s important to tell an adult right away.
I can say no to strangers, kids at school, and even an adult, because my body is my own.
If something happens and I’m afraid to tell, I can dial 911 on the telephone.
My mom said if someone tries to touch me at school or threatens me with harm.
Scream and yell real loud, and if I need too, pull the fire alarm.
I like feeling good about myself and the feeling of being safe and well.
I have learned about good and bad touch, and how important it is to tell.