This year has been tough for everyone. But in a world starved of physical contact, I’ve been a guilty glutton, entangled in a cornucopia of limbs
When I lie down on the floor – which is frequently at the moment because I’ve spent exactly 116 days in lockdown with a three-year-old and her baby brother and I’m never not utterly exhausted – my daughter takes advantage. She clambers up my shins, hooks her tiny rib cage over my bent knees and pulls herself up until it feels as if her lungs may crumple … then dives headfirst down my thighs, crash landing on my stomach with a shriek of pure glee. We call it the Slide Game, one of the many activities we do together best described as “fun at first, losing its appeal by the 57th go”.
The Slide Game normally ends with a bear hug; her trapped wriggling under my arms as I press our faces together, wondering how long I can get away with not letting her go, because I want to never let her go. At least she can wriggle free, unlike her brother, who has little say in accepting my shower of soggy kisses and chubby thigh squeezes. Not that he seems to mind, choosing to attach himself to me koala-like for large parts of the day, nails dug in my neck while my lips rest on his fuzzy hair.
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