This morning while Sacha and I snuggled and watched television, he took my hands, which were folded around his middle, and guided them toward his groin. Being a person of sound judgment and a respecter of boundaries, I resisted his request. He, in turn, resisted my resisting, and so our hands remained suspended, as if subject to the force of magnetic repulsion.
I am quite familiar with the sight of my son's naked form, and consider it a thing of great beauty. I have laid hands on him countless times, as I've snuggled and bathed and otherwise groomed him. I will continue to rub his feet and goose his bum, kiss, hold, hug and squeeze him, for many years to come. I expect I will still want to do these things long after he no longer needs my assistance.
But Sacha, as adorable I think your penis is, I do not, under any circumstances want to touch it.
Some time—not until your late teenage years, if I have any say in the matter—you will no doubt find yourself a friend with whom you will spend hours happily fondling one another. Until then, I'm sorry son, but you'll just have to do it yourself.