[ad_1]
The children’s village is a bit of an outsider among the living groups. We believe in lots of hugs, bedtime stories and cuddly teddy bears. You see, the kids mentioned in our village didn’t get the warm fuzzies that many of us had growing up. They have a lot of catching up to do and part of our job is to fill in those gaps in their childhood. That’s one of the reasons we grandparents live in the village, but a lot of the very personal and intimate interaction comes from our house parents. After all, they have to deal with the everyday details of living with the children. Some of these are boring (waking them up in the morning for school, making sure they brush their teeth, reminding them to change their socks and underwear, etc.), but there are good times too. Among them, most of the house parents mention that they tuck the children in for the night.
The houseparents for each house have their own bedtime rituals for the children, but almost all involve a bedtime story. I was surprised to find that 11-year-old Francesca, who is perfectly capable of reading adult-level novels herself, insists on being read to by one of the house parents. Even more remarkable is that this rather demanding pre-teen selects books for much younger children. Pooh Bear and Little Red Riding Hood will do just fine, thanks.
This little girl doesn’t need help reading, but she needs to experience the comfort and coziness of having a loving adult sitting next to her on her bed at night. The reading skills she can acquire at school are irreplaceable for this special nightly ritual. Whatever the reason, Francesca never knew those special moments with her parents. Poignantly, she tries her best 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 house parents cover him up tightly, “like a burrito,” as he describes it. His brother Bobby wants to be covered up “like a mummy”. Bobby wants a kiss goodnight, but Nate is cool with a hug.
Nick wants to both give and receive the sleep ritual. He comes over to my flat just before nine to hug and kiss my old basset hound Penny. Good night. Heck, old pooches need love too. Nick’s little brother is also concerned about Grandpa Hanks’ collection of stuffed animals. One day he stopped by and asked if he could take one of my stuffed otters home for the night. I said, “Okay, but take good care of it.” He brought it back the next morning after assuring me that “he had hugged and kissed it many times”. Nick will be a good father one day.
The children’s village tries very hard to be a warm and comfortable place for our children. Other group homes, aware of the argumentative nature of our society, tend to be very cautious when it comes to touching children. They fear hugging and touching children could be seen as “inappropriate”. I do not dismiss their concerns. Unfortunately, the children who come to us are no strangers to “inappropriate” touch, whether the contact is sexual in nature or takes the form of physical beatings.
Therefore, we are very careful when dealing with our children. Some children do not want to be hugged or even touched. We respect that. Other children seem unable to set boundaries for themselves because of past abuse. One of our little girls who was raped at a very young age practically lunged at house parents and grandparents alike. It was the only way she knew of getting affection. So when I say we are a village that strongly believes in the therapeutic value of touch, that doesn’t mean anything is possible. Children need to learn from us to respect their own bodies and set boundaries for themselves.
Yet too often in our society, we allow our fear of trial to override our common sense. We automatically put the adjective “inappropriate” before “touch” as if the two were inseparable. Well, they aren’t. But on the contrary. At Children’s Village, we like to believe that hugs and being hugged in the context of healthy relationships are not only appropriate, but essential for growth.
[ad_2]