The Art of Touch

My nine year old was sitting at the kitchen table this afternoon, happily playing with my tablet.  I had to pass her half a dozen times in my various journeys to and from the kitchen.  After about the third time, I realized I had touched her head with my hand every single time I passed her.  She is not my little personal talisman, but she is my child, and I like to touch her sun kissed locks.

My father is a hugger, when it comes to his children.  When we were little, my dad would frequently hug my brothers and me.  Sometimes just for standing near him.  It was a little girl's greatest joy, to have her superstar daddy show affection.  My dad is a strong man, and when I was little he was even stronger, tougher, and even more rugged in my eyes.  He was just cool.  And he loved me. 

I made a conscious effort to replicate my dad in that way.  I love people.  I hug people.  There are times I have to refrain, and not hug people when I see them, because not everyone is a "hug enthusiast" (no worries, I do know boundaries, but more than likely I will be that crazy lady at the grocery store who hugs each and everyone she sees, when I am in my 90's; Lord willing).  My kids however, are fair game.  After all, they can't escape (insert evil laugh...).  I hug them constantly.  I kiss the tops of their heads.  I swoop in for the one armed "side hug", when they are just standing in a room.  I hug and kiss them goodnight.  We sit close on the couch and cuddle.  My daughters still put their heads on my lap so I can stroke their hair.  Some of the kids will still hold my hand in public.  When they cry, I hold them tightly.

So after thirteen years of employing these methods, you know what I got in return?  A thirteen year old son, who despite trying very hard to find his place in the world and be cool, will come up to his momma and put his head on her much shorter shoulder, to initiate a hug, just because.  I had braced myself for a time when he would cringe in deflection of an oncoming embrace, like he does with his sisters.  It hasn't come yet, and it may still, but so far, so good. 

I can only pray for what my father's efforts with his children produced; siblings who have no trouble dispensing affection upon one another and their parents, for the rest of their lives.  Pursue your children.  Hug them, kiss them on their foreheads, simply put your hand on their shoulder briefly as you pass by.  I promise, the dividends to come are amazing.