Baby's bodies, baby's selves.

Often, people want to grab my baby, snuggle him in and breathe his smell while they kiss him all over. I don’t blame them—I want to do it too, all the time. Forgive me a moment of utter lack of humility while I say---he’s SOOOO cute and amazing. Who wouldn’t want to hug him?

The problem is, the Boodge doesn’t really go for it. 95% of the time, he gets a rapidly escalating “Oooh, aaaaahgh…” of resistance, depending on who is grabbing him. I know some babies are more cuddly but he is who he is. He doesn’t like to be held down. He’s a goer. When I change his diaper, hold his hand, put on his clunky orthopaedic shoes, get him dressed—he fusses. He resists his Dad’s wrestling manoeuvres, and very often when you go in for the kiss, he turns his head away.

People sometimes say things like “Don’t you like me?” to him, or “Why won’t you love me?” They get hurt and defensive, as if it’s somehow personal. They tell me half jokingly, half resentfully, that I’m the problem, because now that I came into the room he’d rather have me. But sometimes if I leave the room I also spoil the moment as he comes running after me. It’s totally normal separation anxiety, but sometimes at family gatherings it puts me on eggshells lest I move my body in the wrong direction and interrupt a bonding moment. The whole thing irks me like a splinter in my brain, so I’ve been picking away at it for a while.

From what I can see there’s a line somewhere between: children need the guidance and nurturing of adults because they are new people and don’t know how to get along in the world without us, and “We are the boss of you, so you better listen”. Somewhere on the We are the Boss of You side of the line is where the more dangerous power relationship between Grown-Ups and Kids exists. In that place, I think it’s sometimes forgotten that children, though new humans, are entirely human, and human rights apply to them, including the right to autonomy. Even more so, we need to protect those rights because they are the most vulnerable and powerless among us. When I am struggling with a parenting issue, and it helps me to think about what side of the line I want to be on in raising my child.

Children have the right to, and should be encouraged to, make free and safe choices about their bodies. As Grown-Ups, we do have to be strongly authoritative sometimes over their bodies to keep them from harm. I stick my finger in the Boodge’s mouth, insist on holding him or some part of him, grab him away from something he was interested in—all the time. Naturally, we can’t give our children complete physical autonomy, that would be neglect. We have to teach them to respect their bodies, maintain them properly, know their limitations, protect them from harm. It’s an enormous, complex job for parents and kids that is fraught with danger. Just thinking about it daunts me at times.

I’m glad the Boodge can make it known that he doesn’t want to snuggle or he'd like to stay near a person he feels can protect him, and I hope he is just as strong voiced about that his whole life. That’s one thing we don’t have to teach kids, but we have to be careful not to “unteach” it by making them feel they’re not allowed to protest to unwelcome touch or fight an unnecessary restraint. I’ve counselled too many survivors of sexual abuse to believe that my child should be encouraged to let people hug and kiss him just to be polite and not hurt their feelings. Even so, I find myself doing it sometimes, so I'm glad I've had a chance to sit down and think this through.

Of course, I feel sad for the people that love him and want to just eat him up at this most snuggleable phase of his life—it would be nice if he’d cozy up to them like he does to me, his dad, and a few of others who he will let hold him happily. It would also be great if he’d just sit on my lap for half an hour snuggling while I chill out, rather than taking his autonomous body all over the apartment, beach, playground, or wherever we are.

To those he pushes away I have to say—just wait a bit. He will get there. He’s a human, and like all humans, he needs to trust and know you before he can safely let you into his intimate space. Don’t you wish you had been able to hold onto that knowledge that you had instinctually as a baby? How many less yucky relational and sexual experiences do you think you would have had (please understand I’m not trying to “blame the victim” for not speaking up—but the society that tells us to be nice and suppress the instincts that keep us safe)? How many more children would feel empowered to speak up about violations to their bodies if we could send the consistent message that it’s OK if they do.

In time after you’ve played on the floor with him a few afternoons and been the one to catch him from a fall or show him the next cool thing, he’ll bring you a book to read and he’ll want to sit on your lap while you read it. He’ll let you take him to the playground where you can help teach him about bodies, like how you do have to hold him back when he’s going to smash his head, run into traffic, pull a dog’s hair, or maul other children. In return, he’ll teach you about your body’s limitations and abilities as you stretch to help him climb the slide and bend to pull him out of the tunnel. It all will be worth it, I promise. And I’ll be at the beach. Call my cell if you need me.