tuck me in like a burrito
Children’s Village is a bit of a hipster among group homes. We’re big believers in lots of hugs, bedtime stories, and teddy bears. You see, the children referred to in our town didn’t get to experience the warm fluff that many of us had growing up. They have a lot to do to catch up and part of our job is to fill those gaps in their childhood. That’s part of the reason we grandparents live in town, but much of the very personal and intimate interaction comes from our parents. After all, they have to deal with the mundane details of living with the kids. Some of these are boring (getting them up for school in the morning, making sure they brush their teeth, reminding them to change their socks and underwear, etc.), but there are also enjoyable moments. Among them, most parents mention tucking in their children at night.
The parents in each house have their own bedtime rituals for the children, but almost all include a bedtime story. I was surprised to find that 11-year-old Francesca, who is quite capable of reading even adult novels, insists that one of the parents of the house read to her. Even more remarkably, this rather sophisticated tween chooses books intended for much younger children. Pooh bear and Little Red Hood will be fine, thank you.
This child does not need help with reading, but she does need to experience the comfort and warmth of having a loving adult sitting next to her in her bed at night. Reading skills she can get at school, but there’s no substitute for this special nightly ritual. For some reason, Francesca never knew the comfort of these special moments with her parents. Poignantly, she is doing everything she can to make up for lost time.
Eight-year-old Nate wants to hold his stuffed horse close to him at bedtime. He also insists that his father accommodate him well, “like a donkey,” as he describes it. His brother Bobby wants to be wrapped up “like a mummy.” Bobby wants a goodnight kiss but Nate is great with a hug.
Nick wants to both give and receive the bedtime ritual. He comes to my apartment just before nine to give my old basset hound, Penny, a hug and a kiss. good night. Heck, old puppies need love too. Nick’s little brother is just as solicitous of Grandpa’s Hanks collection of stuffed animals. One day he came to me and asked if he could take one of my stuffed otters home for the night. I said, “Okay, but take good care of him.” The next morning he brought it to me after assuring me that he “had hugged and kissed him a lot.” Nick will be a good father one day.
The Children’s Village strives to be a warm and welcoming place for our children. Other group homes, aware of the contentious nature of our society, tend to be very cautious about touching children. They worry that hugging and touching children is considered “inappropriate.” I do not dismiss your concerns. Children who come to us, unfortunately, are no strangers to “inappropriate” touching, whether the contact is sexual in nature or comes as a physical spanking.
So we are very careful in the way we interact with our children. Some children do not want to be held or touched. We respect that. Other children, due to past abuse, seem unable to set limits for themselves. One of our girls, who had been raped at a very young age, would practically throw herself at parents and grandparents alike. That was the only way she knew to receive affection. So when I say that we are a people who firmly believe in the therapeutic value of touch, it does not mean that anything goes. Children need to learn from us how to respect their own bodies and know how to set limits for themselves.
Yet too often in our society we allow our fear of lawsuits to override our common sense. We automatically place the adjective “inappropriate” in front of “touching”, as if the two were inextricably linked. Well, they are not. Quite the opposite. At Children’s Village, we like to think that hugging and being hugged, in the context of healthy relationships, is not only appropriate but essential for growth.