Kissing: A Habit That Grows

The evening’s theme for discussion was introduced at the supper table: “Kissing versus Handshaking.” Inspired by observation and curiosity, I decided to question this common gesture. The dictionary defines kissing as “a salute with the lips,” but I wondered, why not replace it with a handshake as a form of salutation?

As I asked aloud, “Why do people kiss each other?” the table fell silent, and all eyes turned to me.

Bill, the family’s self-proclaimed comedian, spoke first. “That’s right, little sunbeam, start something. The family’s too peaceful tonight; hit us with a bombshell.”

Sister May, never one to miss an opportunity for sarcasm, chimed in. “Ye Gods! The child is lost. First love, now kissing! What’s next, little philosopher?”

I refused to let them derail my inquiry. “Why does everyone kiss? It seems unnecessary,” I insisted, much to the bewilderment of Mother, who sighed, “Why ask such silly questions?”

Father, who often found humor in such debates, joined in. “Well,” he said with a grin, “It’s the only receipt I get for all the hard-earned cash I hand out.”

Pete, the youngest, piped up through a mouthful of food. “Aw, kissing’s just what makes girls silly. It’s a game they play—kissin’ games!”

At this point, Aunt Priss, ever the traditionalist, adopted her signature haughty pose. “In my day, young people were not allowed to discuss such subjects. We were seen, not heard.”

As the debate raged, I continued to press my case. “Daily, I see women kissing each other, men kissing each other, and everyone kissing Father—even Pete, despite his sticky, candy-coated hands. Why do we do it?”

Father tried to redirect attention to Pete, asking, “What’s wrong, son? Don’t you want your supper?” Mother promptly reminded him of the candy she’d warned against earlier.

Amid the chaos, I noticed Mr. Jack, Sister May’s suitor, watching her intently. His words, though softly spoken, caught my ear: “A kiss is a woman’s pledge of faith. But pledges are easily broken.”

May, clearly caught off guard, replied coolly, “A kiss is merely another way of greeting, like shaking hands.” Her tone faltered, however, when the table’s attention turned her way. Bill couldn’t resist giggling, and Mr. Jack’s large, reddening ears betrayed his discomfort.

Mother, sensing the tension, attempted to restore order. “Kissing has become too common, almost a habit. A bad one at that.”

Bill, ever the family pest, saw this as his cue for another contribution. Standing dramatically, he proclaimed, “Kissing’s a habit that grows!” Then, with exaggerated flair, he recited:
“The first kiss leaves a memory,
The second, a desire.
The third one leaves a restless hope
That keeps the pulse afire.
A wish for a fourth and fifth,
And then nobody knows
When you’ll ever get enough,
For the habit grows.”

The room burst into laughter, but I was undeterred. Despite the mockery, I had sparked an evening of reflection on a habit so ingrained we rarely question it.