Lion and Magic Boy

We have lots of rituals in this house. Children thrive on rituals, and mine seem to be masters at this. With their situation already being rather disorganized and erratic what with heading to their dad’s house every few days in a schedule that changes often, they really need some things that always remain the same. I’m sure they have developed rituals at their “other” house as well, since children seem to create them, but I treasure what we have created together over the years.

One of my favorites has been with Serena. Being a middle child, she’s often rather left out of things: she’s too young to have the perquisites that Nathaniel enjoys, and Eric, being Eric, demands a fair amount of attention. Serena’s not shy about being demanding herself, but there’s a fragility to her that makes me want, some days, just to hold her.

Thus, the Morning Hug.

It began in our house in Colorado, where wide-open spaces on the prairie outside lent themselves to the wide-open spaces indoors. There was lots of running room, and Serena, composed of nothing much more than a tangle of arms and legs, can run. In fact, I’ve seen her skimming over the earth sometimes, looking like a gazelle thats running for the sheer joy of flying.

Indoors, of course, is slightly another matter. Furniture provides obstacles, as do people and animals, not to mention errant toys thrown by small boys.

But we found a clear space in the kitchen where she could get about a twenty-foot running start and then leap into my arms for the hug.

Quite a fetching sight, really, and it never failed to amuse Eric from his high chair last year, Eric who watches everything and misses nothing.

Since moving here to Pennsylvania it’s been more awkward to have Morning Hugs: the space is limited, there are more animals, and the strewn toys seem to multiply whenever I turn my back. Plus Serena simply isn’t here every day, and we forget often as a result even when she is.

But yesterday we remembered. She came in for a landing and then forgot to jump and we all laughed together, so she went back to her place for another try. Eric had meanwhile positioned himself at a place about halfway between Serena and me and then suddenly came walking toward me as fast as he could with a huge grin on his face.

It was Eric’s first Morning Hug.

I quickly bent down to accommodate him. There was no way he was going to leap up into my arms, especially since a fast walk was as close to a run as he could manage.

But still: this was a moment he’s waited about a year and a half for. The look of joy on his face will carry me through my entire lifetime.