Why You Might Think I Have Rude Kids

This holiday season, my kids will be seeing relatives they see just once a year, if that.

I expect our outgoing 18-month-old will have a brief warm-up period, then bust out her bubbly personality like she’s at home.

But our 6-year-old is terribly shy. She’ll need at least a couple days before she’s ready to open up.

Either way, in that moment when the long road trip is over and we pile out of the car, we’ll see family we haven’t seen in a long while.

Ty and I will greet them with hugs and smiles, but both kids will probably hang back.

I will not say, “Go give Uncle Jim a hug!”

I will not say, “Grandma missed you, why don’t you give her a kiss?”

I will not coerce my kids to show physical affection of any kind.

Rude Kids?

What I’m about to say may be a little controversial.

Actually, I know it will be because I’ve had a few lively conversations about it with friends and family.

I’m not sharing my perspective because I think you should do what I do.

I know I’m most likely the oddball.

No, I decided to share today simply in order to explain where I’m coming from.

This is one of those parenting decisions you have to make for yourself.

Some parents teach their kids to believe in Santa. Some don’t.

Some parents send their kids to public school. Some homeschool.

And some parents acknowledge the existence of the Star Wars prequel trilogy.

To each their own.

My hope is that my story helps you consider a different perspective. Not to change your mind, but so that if you have a friend or family member who feels the same way I do, you can approach them from a place of understanding.

Photo by ModernDope

But Why?

Twice, my 6-year-old Abby has been in a situation where her instincts told her she didn’t feel safe with how someone was touching her body.

In both situations, she felt confident enough to say, “No, don’t touch me like that.” And she felt comfortable enough to tell me about what happened. Together, we came up with a plan for how to handle what happened and to prevent it in the future.

How is it possible that my shy little people-pleaser felt confident enough to say no?

Because my husband and I reinforce with her as much as humanly possible that she is the ONLY person in the world who gets to decide who touches her body.

A major part of reinforcing this message is how we approach physical affection with friends and family.

What We Do That Might Sound Odd

We tell Abby that it’s her job to decide what she’s comfortable with. We don’t force or coerce or guilt her into being physically affectionate with anyone, including us.

When we visit the grandparents, we don’t say: “Now go give Grandma a hug and a kiss.”

Instead, we lean down and say quietly so others can’t overhear: “Do you want to give Grandma a hug or a kiss?”

If she doesn’t feel comfortable with that, that’s her choice. Later, we can talk about it and explore why she didn’t. Maybe she needed some extra time to warm up to them after not seeing them for a while.

But no matter the reason: Her body, her choice.

If we felt like our kids were refusing physical touch just to be contrary or because they were having a crabby day, our approach is still the same. It’s not for us to decide who they feel comfortable touching.

And if Abby refuses a hug just as a power struggle?

Who cares.

Photo by Allana

Sometimes kids are in a bad mood and don’t feel like hugging Grandma. Shoot, sometimes I’m in a bad mood and don’t feel like hugging anyone.

No one’s forcing me to give them a hug, but we tend not to give a second thought to forcing a child into physical touch they don’t want.

If this approach results in hurt feelings on the part of the non-hugged family member, so be it. They’re adults, and we can talk to them later about what happened.

I never want to send the message that I know better than Abby does when it comes to who gets to touch her body. In a country where nearly 1 in 5 women have been sexually assaulted, this is an issue we take more seriously than just about anything else.