The Rape of the Tickle

Ever tickle a toddler? Almost always, the response is the same: sheer, unadulterated, squealing joy. The difference among given toddlers is only a matter of degree and laughter technique.

Try it with an adult, however, and you are at least as likely to have them freak out and become very angry with you, especially if you carry it on for more than 1.5 seconds. (meanwhile the Best Toddler Ever could, I swear, go on for hours.) Why this discrepancy? Is it like baths in cold water, your tastes just change as you get older?

I don't think so.

I think that the problem with most adults is, at some time in their childhood, someone -- usually an asshole older brother, or an uncle (which is only an asshole older brother of the previous generation) -- tickled them until they could not breathe, maybe even holding them down to do it. "For a joke." After all, "It's only tickling." So the natural feelings of happiness and joy at this insanely wonderful form of human social expression were replaced by fear and pain. Feelings of social bonding were replaced by feelings of overpowered helplessness.

I came to this realization when I tickled my first daughter (the Best Toddler Ever of her day), and was astounded at the profound reaction. When I realized what was going on, I immediately resolved to never tickle her (or anyone) beyond their enjoyment, EVER, nor to allow anyone else to do so.

To destroy the incredible gift of tickling in selfish exercise in power (and there is exactly what it is, regardless of what lies anyone may say to the contrary) is directly analogous to rape, which perverts and, for many, forever damages or destroys the beautiful gift that is sex. You may think this is an absurd analogy; if so, you need to witness the intensity of the joy tickling produces in a child who has not been so abused.

So do everyone a favor, keep tickling, and keep it friendly, keep it happy, and leave them while they're wanting more. Everyone will be glad.