Hugging’s been big in our life with kids.
It started round my neck when I held the babies and they responded with chubby clasps.
From the floor I got my knees gripped and tripped and narrowly avoided treading on them. That grew up to my thighs, then waist, then a beaming grin and chin somewhere above my navel. We got double hugging time with them being home educated – delicious it was.
Soon, they could lay their heads on my chest without me stooping. And suddenly we’re rubbing shoulders and entering a period of time where maybe they’re thinking it’s not so cool to hug.
But I just carried on hugging anyway – sod being cool – and that gawky teen time soon passed.
And last week, when I arrived to spend a day with my youngest now at Uni, she flew at me and I flew at her and we hugged like hell. It was mutual.
She’s taller than me now, upright and elegant. We walked round the city arm in arm, gabbing and giggling, in our new found relationship between two adults …there’s always something new to learn as a parent. We laugh about stuff, I get too excited, and suddenly have a sense of it being me who’s admonished for inappropriate behaviour not the other way round!
Then, just as I got behind the wheel for the long drive home, the new formed adulthood fell away from her and she asked me to get out the car and give another proper hug before I go.
My new formed adult parenthood also falls away. One more hug for the journey. Tightly clasp better describes it. I think about it all the way home; decide it’s a story I want to tell on my next blog.
Because hugging’s the absolute best. And one of the best things ever about being a parent – whichever bit they can reach to!