I've faaalllen, and I can't get uuuuuup...

Sweet crap on a cracker. Why do people not understand the words that are coming out of my mouth? When my son falls, or coughs on some water, or runs full tilt into a tree, and I don't move to help him, and you do, and I say "Please leave him alone," and you don't stop, and I get louder, and you don't listen, and I tell you "DON'T TOUCH MY CHILD," I am not asking - or giving permission - for you to go pick him up and nurse his boo-boos. Leave. Him. Alone. 

I thought for awhile that it was just me that had to deal with this. You know - at-home dad, "doesn't have the ability to nurture" (yes, I've been told this), maybe they think I'm lazy or neglectful, but it doesn't seem to be limited to just me. I've seen many moms deal with this same issue. The part that really annoys me is when it's other moms with kids the same age. If it's a grandma, or an older lady, I can understand if they are hard of hearing or whatever, but when it's a mom with kids in the same age group and they run over to my child to kiss their owie and make it better - what the hell, lady?! NO TOUCHY! No touch. 

I am not a heartless monster. I am not inattentive. I simply don't see the need to mollycoddle. I am not raising a helpless baby - I am raising a child, a person, an individual. I want him to assess himself, to see what the damage is, to be able to determine what is attention-worthy, and what is just a bump, a scrape, a little water down the wrong pipe. I want him to learn independent thought and personal strength. To know that he can take care of himself. Because if he really needs me, I will be there in a flash. 

I know my child. You don't. And the one thing I definitely know about my child that you don't - but you will find out in about 2 seconds - is that he hates being touched without his consent. That boy has a very close bubble that surrounds him, and anyone entering that bubble better have his express permission to do so, or there will be hell to pay. So when he blows out your eardrums with his siren scream, bloodies your nose with a right cross, and kicks your tit off, don't look at me like I raised some kind of demon. I asked you, I told you, I raised my voice at you not to touch him. It's on your head.