Hug Power

We're not the huggingest family that ever lived, but we're pretty close. The kids see a lot of affection, and in turn, demand a lot.

The "Mom sandwich" hug is my favorite. A slice of Max, a slice of Abby, and me in the middle.

The goose pile hug is my least favorite. This is the one that starts out innocuous, but keels over, and becomes a huge floor-pile of children and dogs parts, with all available elbows squarely in my navel. You just can't get out of this one gracefully.

Sneak-attack hugs are an oft-used variety in my house. When correctly carried off, they can be quite pleasant. My son thinks it involves, by necessity, the Heimlich Maneuver. Re-training has met with limited success.

Hugs involving the surreptitious placement of ice cubes are strictly forbidden. As are the post-lawn-mowing-sweaty-beast hugs. Unfortunately, the man of the house seems to think I will eventually develop a taste for them, if he just keeps trying.

Hugs that lift the hug-ee off the floor are particularly exciting - especially when the undersized hug-er discovers that the 24 inches and 60 pounds the hug-ee has on him isn't as easily balanced as he'd first imagined. Hugging should not resemble a circus stunt, though this wisdom is most efficiently acquired by experience.

Dog hugs are snuggly.
Cat hugs are dangerous, and can result in lacerations.
Fish hugs are impractical, at best.

Hugging is really great when you're in the mood, and really oppressive when you're not. If it causes you to burn the gravy, for example, it may fall into the "too much" category. Spilling coffee is also not good. Overall, hugging in the presence of hot liquids should probably be avoided.

Another problem with hugging is that sometimes (just sometimes) certain children haven't bothered to wash up, and grubby little face and hand marks appear in odd places. This isn't so bad when you notice it and have the opportunity to change clothes. Otherwise, it can lead to some strange glances at the bank. I would imagine.

For the most part, kid hugs are amazing. My kids will hug any part of my anatomy they can get their hands on. My foot. My head. My left elbow.

Publicly hugging my son has been put on a moratorium, until such time as it ceases to be "embarrassing". This started when his friends began giving him a hard time about it. We were forced to develop a secret code finger hug. Or, in a pinch, use the car door as cover.

My daughter gives me a hurried leg-hug and bolts off to her Kindergarten classroom. I wonder what grade she'll reach before I get a waist-hug, or a over-the-arm face-to-face hug. I think I want to stick with the leg-hug for a while.

After school hugs are always a treat. They're the closest to the slow-motion-through-the-meadow Hollywood variety. It's like they haven't seen you in six months, when it's only been six hours. I hear that soon, these greetings will morph into urgent requests for food, but I'm not having any of it.

Strong husband-hugs are not only refreshing, but necessary (ice and odor exceptions noted above, of course.) My USRDA of husband hugs hovers at about four less than his USRDA of wife hugs. So by my calculations, I hold the hug-power in our family.

But I only use my power for good.