Cartoon of the Week

To Hug or Not to Hug, That is the Question

The Christmas season is fraught with peril.

Will your gift to that special someone be a hit or a flop? Will you over-indulge at the office Christmas party and make a fool of yourself in front of your superiors? Will you be crushed in a human stampede at an early morning Black Friday sale?

But of all the thorny issues this holiday season, there is one that looms over all others, both in its magnitude and potential for disaster: Do you hug? If so, who do you hug? Where do you hug? Do you initiate the hug? Do you hug the opposite gender only, or do your hugs swing both ways?

Some people are huggers by nature, others not so much. Still others will absolutely cringe at an uninvited and unwanted embrace.

Especially for men, these are dangerous times.

For example, if a man is giving Christmas greetings to a female co-worker, and she happens to be a hugger, she will feel slighted if she doesn't get a quick squeeze about the shoulders.

On the other hand, if a man initiates a friendly hug with a female acquaintance who is not a hugger, she will be quickly offended, and he may find himself labeled as a sexual harrasser. There is nothing worse than hugging a woman and feeling her back stiffen and her shoulders tense up in revulsion at your unwanted familiarity.

For the ultimate awkward moment, think of what happens when you are greeted simultaneously by two or more long-time acquaintances, one of whom is a hugger, and the other who is not. This can be quite the sticky wicket.

This happened to me not long ago. Two women I knew quite well walked up towards me at church while they were talking together. Woman A, a notorious hugger, wrapped her arms around me in a big squeeze, and I happily reciprocated. Woman B, a very nice woman whom I had also known for some time, but had never hugged, stood there quietly.

I had no idea what to do. Was she standing there waiting for her hug? Was she standing there hoping I would NOT hug her? Was she thinking that I liked Woman A better and I was slighting her by not initiating a hug? Who knows? All I can tell you is that it was quite uncomfortable. Where is Miss Manners when you need her most?

It gets even more complicated when you consider same-gender hugs. A lot of guys have an issue with this.

Personally, the older I get, the more huggy I become. I think that happens to a lot of us. Hugs are nice. Hugs are comforting. Like the song says, there's just not enough love in the world, and when you have a chance to show some affection to another human being, it should be a good thing.

But a lot of guys don't want a hug from another guy. The unwritten rule seems to be that hugs between men are restricted to long-time close friends and male relatives at family reunions. Casual hugs between men who are casual friends just don't seem to work.

Women, by contrast, have no problem with hugging any other woman on the planet. Women will jump up and down while they hug, pat each other on the leg (if they're seated), even kiss on the cheek, and no one has a problem with that.

Of course, women live in a whole other world: They even go to the bathroom together and no one bats an eye. Apparently this is a genetic thing.

Men, we need a manual for this. There should be some kind of code signal that women could give to let us know what they really want, hug-wise. But I imagine we'll get that information about the same time we can get a true definition of what a woman means when she says, "Fine."

Since the dawn of time, men have stumbled blindly about, trying to understand what women really want. Who knows?

Merry Christmas, and hug at your own risk.

Cartoon of the Week

Adventures in Grand-parenting

It is easy to forget what it was like to have children in the house.

Grand-parenting, for the most part, consists of a few hours here and there, doing short stints of child care or taking a trip to the park. Quick and painless.

It is a beautiful thing. All the gain and none of the pain. Play with kids for a while, and by the time they are getting cranky or whiney, it's time for them to go home and annoy their parents.

But sometimes grand-parenting requires an extended commitment. This can be hazardous.

We recently kept our two grandsons for a three-day stretch while our son and daughter-in-law were on a short trip.

Zeke is four years old, and he is a sweet little boy. He is very observant, very talktative, and most of the time, very loud.

His brother Malachi is 18 months old. He is cute as a button, with a raucous laugh and an endearing smile. But he is stubborn, and quick to throw a fit when he doesn't get his way. I predict he is going to take his parents on a trip through the "terrible two's" that they will never forget.

The first morning they were here, things went pretty smoothly. That is because Grandma Peggy stayed home that day and took care of getting the boys up in the morning. All I had to do was wake up and eat breakfast with them.

I ended up working late that evening, so I only got to see the boys for about an hour before bedtime. So far, so good.

But the following morning, I was in charge. Peggy had to leave at 7:00 for work, and it was my job to get the boys ready to go for the day.

Zeke woke up first. I talked to him for a while and helped him pick out his clothes for the day. Then he started getting dressed. While he dressed, I got his lunch ready for school. Then I gathered up his school items and back-pack and set them by the door. When he finished dressing, I tied his shoes.

Of course, he was hungry. He sat at the table, and I poured some hot water into his bowl of instant oatmeal while he stirred. As I reached across in front of him to grab a napkin, I apparently got too close for his liking.

He jerked his head back and said, "Grandpa, you don't smell very good."

I considered pointing out to the wee lad that if I had not spent every waking moment of the morning serving as his butler, I might have had time to shower before now. But I let it pass.

Then it was time to wake up the Hulk. Malachi was out like a light in his little crib. I don't think he had flinched since we tucked him in the night before.

I sure wish I could sleep like that.

I rubbed his bulging tummy and softly called his name. He yawned. His eyes fluttered. He stretched. He jerked his head up, looked around, rolled over onto all fours and then stood up. It took him all of 30 seconds to go from sound asleep to wide awake. Impressive.

I sure wish I could wake up like that.

He was grunting and making agitated noises as I sat him into his high chair. He kept pointing to the refrigerator and waving his arms around.

Zeke decided I needed a translator. "Grandpa, Malachi is hungry!"

"Is he like this every morning?"

"Yeah."

I stirred up the oatmeal as fast as humanly possible and began to shovel it into little Malachi's gaping mouth. He was still grunting, but the tone had changed a bit. It was something like the sounds you might hear at the zoo at feeding time.

After breakfast, the little Hulk was happy. I changed him, dressed him and started getting ready to go. I grabbed Malachi's diaper bag, and Zeke's backpack for school, and began to load the car.

As I walked from the kitchen to the garage, I told Zeke to bring Malachi with him while I loaded the car. When I walked back to the kitchen, Malachi was lying on his back and laughing as Zeke dragged him along by one arm across the kitchen floor.

"Here he is, Grandpa!"

Soon I had both boys strapped into the car and we were ready to go. Right on time! I was congratulating myself on my organizational skills until Zeke interrupted me.

"Grandpa, I have to pee."

"Didn't you go before?"

"I forgot!"

"Can't you wait until we get to school?"

The look on his face told me no.

I sat in the car with Malachi while Zeke went to pee. Malachi began to thrash around in the car seat, chafing at his restraints. He began grunting again. I was afraid he might chew through the seat belt and run off into the woods.

I went inside to find out what was taking Zeke so long. He was standing at the sink, the faucet blasting like a fire hose, watching water drip from his fingertips as he held them out at eye level.

"Zeke, we're going to be late for school!"

"I'm washing my hands, grandpa."

"Did you use soap?"

"Not yet."

I turned down the faucet and lathered Zeke's hands with soap. He had to endure my body odor again as I hovered over him to make sure he finished washing up and dried his hands.

By the time we returned to the garage, Malachi was grunting and rocking violently in the car seat in a desperate attempt to escape his confinement. He finally quieted down once I began to back out of the garage.

We arrived at school almost on time, and I dropped Zeke off. Then I made the short drive over to Mrs. Sherry's house to drop Malachi off for the day. I breathed a huge sigh of relief as I drove away, alone, in peaceful solitude.

I still needed a shower. I'm sure my blood pressure was higher than my cardiologist would have liked, and I was going to be late for work. And I had to do this all over again the next morning.

I don't know how mothers do all this on a daily basis. And I don't really want to know. I'm just part-time, and I like it that way.