Sandwiched Club

Master Focaccia, our little tornado of affection, has a signature move: the sneak-attack hug. One moment, you’re minding your business, maybe sipping on your morning drink in the front seat, and the next thing you know, you’re being smothered by a 9-year-old’s headlock of love. His younger sister, Ms. Carbonara, has been the target of many such ambushes. Sometimes she giggles, sometimes she shouts, and sometimes, she just peels him off like old cling wrap.

For him, hugs aren’t just affection. They’re grounding. Regulation. A reset button when the ADHD noise in his brain gets too loud. We learnt from therapists and even a few articles from Unlocking ADHD that many kids like him are sensory seekers. A tight squeeze calms his nerves.

But here’s the thing. We live in Singapore. Land of “don’t make eye contact in the lift” and “don’t talk to strangers on the MRT.” Hugs — especially random ones — are not our default setting. Especially not for boys. Especially not between genders.

So while we love that Focaccia’s love language is touch, we also feel this urgency — a duty, even — to teach him about boundaries. Because the last thing we want is for his beautiful intention to be misunderstood or worse, become inappropriate without him realising.

Rule #1: Ask First. And Mean It.

We’ve taught him to ask, “Can I hug you?” but sometimes it’s just lip service. He’s already halfway in before the person even answers. He needs to observe. If the person is backing away, arms crossed, stiff as a penguin — that’s a no. A real no. Move on.

Rule #2: Know Where Your Hands Are

This one’s tricky to teach, especially to a boy who still thinks fart jokes are peak comedy. But we try. As boys grow, we explain, their bodies get stronger, bigger. And a hug isn’t just a hug when your head ends up somewhere it shouldn’t. It’s okay to snuggle Mum. But Auntie at the hawker centre? Watch the angles, my friend. Think of where the hands and head land — placement matters.

Rule #3: Who’s In the Hug Club?

Family, close friends, maybe your school bestie if she’s okay with it. But random aunties, new classmates, even your best bey blade buds — they’re not in the club. We teach him: not everyone is comfortable with touch. And that’s okay.

Rule #4: Not Too Long, Not Too Hard, Not Too Often

This is tough for Focaccia. When he’s full of feels, he squeezes like a python. A loving one, but still. We’ve had to coach him: quick hug, gentle pressure, then release. Not every moment is a hug moment. We also talk about culture. I told him, “Grand dad probably only hugged me three times in my life…” He laughed. But I think he understood. Our family’s hug culture may be changing, but the world hasn’t caught up yet.

Rule #5: Alternatives to the Hug

When the hug urge hits but it’s not the right time or place, we offer alternatives. Deep pressure from a cushion. Pushing his palms together. Giving himself a tight squeeze. Sometimes we pretend our hands are massage machines and he giggles while squeezing his arms with his little hands. He’s making focaccia out of himself.

He’s learning that regulation can come from within. That affection is beautiful, but respect is even more powerful. And that love doesn’t always have to be physical — sometimes a smile, a wave, or even a joke can be just as good.

One day, he’ll grow into a man who understands both his feelings and the space of others. Until then, we guide him. Gently. Like shaping a piece of focaccia bread — kneading it gently, but help it take shape and become the wonderful loving person he can be.