Eight times over

This weekend, I hugged my boys. 🤍 🤍 🤍

I once read that a person should be hugged eight times a day – 8X. It stuck with me, especially when I thought about how many hugs I share with my boys. So, this weekend, I made sure to get my eight in and then some.

My oldest prefers side hugs these days. But I scooped him in anyway, held him a little longer, and kissed his sweet, tousled hair. He tolerated it like the good-natured firstborn he is, letting me steal those extra seconds.

My middle child? He’s all about back hugs. I wrap my arms around him while he’s absorbed in a video game, lean close as he reads a book, or give him a gentle tug on the shoulder. His affection is quieter, but no less present.

And then there’s my youngest, my little ball of energy and joy. He runs full speed into my arms, throwing himself into big, dramatic hugs that he hopes to knock me back or send him flying into the air. He snuggles in my lap as we read Llama Llama Red Pajama on repeat, our cheeks pressed together.

Time is at a premium and Monday will be here in a few hours. There will be quick goodbyes – school drop-offs, daycare and work. 8X condensed into a moment. But this weekend? It was full of hugs – intentional, unhurried and overflowing.

Eight times over.