When I was old enough to take baths in the bathtub, and to know I had a penis and a scrotum and everything, I asked her not to sit in the room with me. Why not? Privacy. Privacy from what? From me? I didn't want to hurt her feelings, because not hurting her feelings is another of my raisons d'etre. Just privacy, I said...She agreed to wait outside, but only if I held a ball of yarn, which went under the bathroom door and was connected to the scarf she was knitting. Every few seconds she would give it a tug, and I had to tug back--undoing what she had just done--so that she could know I was OK.
The narrator recalls a moment in childhood when he desired privacy during bath time, prompting him to ask his mother to leave the room. His request reflects not just a need for physical privacy but also an emotional concern about her feelings, showcasing his sensitivity and desire to protect her. This tension between wanting independence and being considerate illustrates a common conflict in the parent-child relationship.
To address his desire for privacy while reassuring her, they devise a unique solution with a ball of yarn connecting them. As she knits outside the bathroom, she tugs the yarn to check on him, and he responds by tugging back. This interaction symbolizes their bond—his need for autonomy balanced with her need for reassurance that he is safe, highlighting the complexity of their relationship in his journey towards self-identity.
