Sep. 14th, 2011

highlyeccentric: Lucy and Peter Pevensie hugging (Lucy and Peter)
One of the lovely things about small children is that they’re not, usually, self-conscious about physical affection.

Sometimes my little sister doesn’t want to be picked up or snuggled or attacked by the tickle-monster (and that’s OK; and maybe I’m not always the greatest about not pestering her). But mostly, if I go home and ask her “can I have a cuddle?”, I get cuddles. For no good reason. She wants to snuggle in next to me while we read stories, or climb on my lap to play with my laptop, and so on and so forth.

It’s really nice. Kids don’t expect much from you, except that you give them attention and affection.

My little cousin gives, according to my mother, “the best cuddles”. And it’s pretty true. She often needs to be carried when she’s tired, more than other kids her age, because of her physical mobility problems. And if you say to her “can I have a cuddle?” or you snuggle into her a bit when you pick her up, she just goes flop into your shoulder, all boneless. It’s really sweet.

I’ve noticed, though that adults - even adults who aren’t normally touchy - really love that about her. My mother tells me how excellent my little cousin’s cuddles are; my father crows over her when he picks her up; both of them encourage other people to cuddle her as well, because she’s just that excellent at cuddling.

Now, my little cousin loves everyone and everything and really loves cuddles, so it’s not like we have one of those oppressive “give your aunty a kiss” situations which become the bane of family gatherings, at least not yet. And my little cousin has communication problems as well as mobility problems, so in many ways, it’s great to all celebrate one of her stand-out communication talents.

Me, I love hugs, but I have since late childhood felt weird about hugging adult members of my immediate and extended family. And I think that’s because children are expected to provide physical affection to their adult family members. Adult (dominant/white, Australian) society is not a particularly snuggly social group to be in. Many adults, I think, suffer a bit from this: and they (we) absolutely relish the freely given affection of children; to the point where we turn to children to fill a need which doesn’t fit neatly into adult social rituals.

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