Good article I found about parents, kids, and roughhousing.

My first thought after reading this was, ya think?  Our society has devolved to the point where someone actually has to write a book and remind us that such things are not only normal, but okay?  That the nannies who want to run our lives and tell us how to take care of our kids have had this much influence over the rest of us?

I couldn’t imagine not roughhousing with my kids, my nephews and nieces, or any other child invited into our home that feels secure enough to play around with the adults (with reasonable limits, of course).  Already AJ is learning the art with Yes Dear and I, and he beams and squeals with delight every time we let him fall backwards or “drop” him in our bed.  Or tickle him.  Or give him belly raspberries, which he loves to return.

One boundary I do enforce – no hitting, unless you’re practicing boxing, karate, or taikwondo moves with the kids.  I don’t believe that kids should ever think it’s OK to raise their hands to another adult, even in play.  Tickling and wrestling is perfectly acceptable though, even encouraged.

And a good hug at the end once you pin them to the floor, or bed, so they know they’re loved and the world is right with them.

(via Instapundit)

2 thoughts on “Roughhousing

  1. Good article… though it is sad we have to have books and workshops teaching people how to roughhouse with their children!

    Roughhousing is a great bonding experience and helps teach physical limits… but you’re right; a good hug at the end means so much.

    Now let’s bring back paddling! 😉

  2. I’m with you on this all the way. Both of my kids have had a healthy dose of tickling, wet willies, playing at “gimme gimme”, and chasing one another about the house. It’s contact. It’s proof we care enough to be close to them and to accept them as equals for a few moments.

    There’s nothing so wonderful as unbridled laughter and sitting around afterwards trying to squelch the giggles.

    Too many people have mistaken hovering for proof of love. We have to have books for those kinds of parents.

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