Running Log 2012

Monday, September 5, 2011

she hugs me; she hugs me not

I've got one of each.

My twelve year will take any occasion as a reason to plant an earth shattering bone crushing hug on somebody she likes. I am often the the target of such affection for which I praise Jesus. But it can be her Mom or the elementary school principal or the soccer coach or her buddy Kim or her cat. Oh yeah, her cat Sally gets more hugs than a cat knows what to do with. These hugs are the stuff of legend. I frequently have to go to my chiropractor afterword for a strategically place reverse hug. My girl is four foot eight and maybe seventy pounds, but when she hugs you it might as well be Sasquatch whose laying it on you. It is unbelievely powerful and smothering. It is the most amazingly intoxicating experience that you hope will last forever but it better end soon because it is going to kill you for sure.

My eleven year old; not so much. She is not a hugger. She is very clear about this. Don't she says. Fine; I get it. But a lot of people don't get it. Grandma doesn't get it. Aunts and uncles don't get it. I suppose since she's as cute as button, that just makes it more frustrating to people. People are used to the idea that if another living creature weighs in under a hundred pounds and is as cute as all get out that you should be able to wrap your arms around it and get you some lovin. Not so fast. You are not the boss of this one. Of course there is always an exception to every rule. Sometimes life isn't cooperating. Some days are rough. Some days really suck and are downright painful. But I'm her dad, and I notice these things. I know that she's tough and she can handle everything and doesn't need any help. So here's how it goes. I get down on my knees and I talk to her and ask her whats up. She comes up to me and I know it's time. I put my arms around and I give her a hug. And then she hugs me back and I feel her tiny hands digging into my back and I feel her tears running down my cheek. And then she lets go and starts telling me what's going on. Later I get a good night Daddy. Which means we're buds. Sweat dreams.

Sometimes I need a hug. Good thing we have cat. Tough shit if she doesn't want one.


  1. now i just want to give you a hug.

    sadly, under the current rules of society we can only chest bump.