The Last Hug

I’m not sure when my older kid stopped wanting to hug me goodbye when he left the house, or when I dropped him off at school. Perhaps somewhere in first grade range. I began to have to remind him. Then ask him. Then beg. 

Perhaps because I knew it wouldn’t be forever, I was much more aware of when my second stopped wanting to be hugged. It’s now, here, this year. Third grade. I’ll ask at drop-off, “does anyone want a squeeze?” Then he’ll come in, give me a half-hearted broey side-hug, very clearly more for my benefit than his own, and off he goes.

Of course it didn’t use to be like this. There were hours of a day, days on end, when he could hardly bear to be separated from my wife or I. It was as though physical touch conveyed a fifth food group that he desperately needed. (Or maybe it’s sixth? Google now tells me there are five main food groups instead of the four that I grew up with—just another pillar of my youth knocked out, alongside losing Pluto as a planet, to make me question everything).

This younger son of ours is pretty great. He’s very funny, has a huge heart, and has just the right mix of stubbornness and conniving spirit to get what he wants, most of the time. He’s also a bit of a scaredy-cat and will have bouts of not even being able to go up stairs on his own for fear of the monsters that surely lurk.

These moments of fear cause me no end of frustration. Sometimes I suspect them to be manufactured as a way of avoiding doing things. Like brushing his teeth, or bathing, or, you know, going to sleep at a reasonable time so I can read or scroll my phone or watch Netflix or talk to my wife. 

Then there are other times when he and his older brother will ask me for a cuddle. They are huge now and they envelop me on the couch, crushing and poking me until I can hardly breath and have surely tweaked my MCL. 

I know that this is all a part of the journey. That we raise kids to be people who will go out on their own. Who will push their own boundaries, confident in their skills and abilities, and the knowledge that they can come back and dog pile their old man, whenever they need it.

I have a great friend who has a kid a few years older than me. He’s been through all the stages I’m now navigating. He told me that as parents, we grow just as our kids do. That we level up just as they do.

I guess I’m still waiting, wishing for one more hug goodbye.