Who needs a hug?

I love you, a bushel and a peck!
A bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck!
A hug around the neck, and a barrel and a heap
A barrel and a heap, and I'm talkin' in my sleep.
About you.

        -- Guys and Dolls, 1950

Young children love physical contact. This seems to be the case no matter how much hugging and kissing they get from their parents, and regardless of how recently they received their last dose.

This became clear to me when I was a new playground leader. I was about 22 years old and already had a toddler of my own at home whom I had observed to be a big fan of being held, swung around, tossed into the air, hung by her feet and otherwise being in contact with me – or any other available adult, doll, animal, pillow or pretty much anything warm and cuddly.

At home, the entreaty: “Swing me around,” followed by unending repetitions of, “Do that again!” seemed to be part of the Daddy Deal. It was as much fun for me as for her – at least for the first 15 or 20 minutes.

The bulk of my time as an elementary school playground leader was devoted to sports and games – and to kids aged 8 to 12.

Oh, there were plenty of other activities (arts and crafts, drama, music, trips and special events) and there were quite a few children younger than 8 and older than 12; but my main customer base was kids in grades 3 to 6 who attended the school that housed my playground.

Younger participants – often referred to as “rug rats,” “pee wees,” “Lilliputians,” “Munchkins” or otherwise in terms making reference to their size – tended to be self-directed. They might be interested in checking out a ball or Frisbee, but weren’t necessarily interested in playing a formal game – they’d often play alone in the sandbox or on swings and other playground equipment.

Despite the fact that I nearly ignored the 5 and 6 year-olds, they never seemed to get enough of me. As I walked across the grounds, a tiny hand would often slide into mine.

The most memorable phenomenon, though, took place when I knelt to tie my shoes or sat down on a bench or chair. If one or more little people were in range at the time, their “lap radar” alerted them to the fact that a grown-up was available and configured nearer the ground than usual – within reach.

The most common experience was to have a child (or two, or more) step between my feet and slide into my lap. Others might approach from the rear and simply drape their bodies over my shoulders. Some, perhaps more reticent, kids would take a seat beside me and grab my arm while resting their heads against me.

Back then, 35 or 40 years ago – before we became sensitive to the horrible realities that confront some children, holding and hugging kids was viewed as innocent play, a positive and harmless show of affection. In the 80s, widely publicized court cases put uncomfortable images in our minds – and changed the relationship between young children and adults.

Today, parents warn their children to be suspicious of adults. And, to avoid being suspected of wrongdoing, caregivers – including playground leaders – now usually keep their distance for fear of being accused of improper contact.

Playground leaders and other care providers – including teachers – are warned not to touch children, not to be alone with them; they are required to remain distant.

I have mixed feelings about these changes.

On one hand, I hate the fact that a barrier has been built between adults and children. My personal experience with hundreds of kids tells me that disallowing shows of affection robs kids of something they crave, perhaps need.

But I’ve also seen the effects of child abuse from close range and nothing disturbs me more. Protecting kids from predators must be a top priority; and erring on the side of keeping them safe is the only sensible course of action.

Time I spent last weekend with family (including four young girls) reminded me of the good old days when there were no inhibitions and no fears. I was reminded of all the times one of those little hands forced its way into one of mine or when arms wrapped around my neck.

Childhood is a magical time – for children AND those lucky enough to have children in their lives.

I won’t advocate a return to an age of innocence that should probably be called an age of ignorance – children were hurt when trust was placed in untrustworthy grown-ups.

But I do advocate that parents and grandparents (and folks like me who are lucky to be aunts or uncles) fill the void and share lots of hugs and kisses with the rug rats in their families.

XXXOOOOXXX