Tickling

Stross was born without the ability to feel his feet. Not his toes, pads, heels, ankles - nothing. That's why I'm fascinated that one of his favorite playful things to do with family members - me, Mark, Skye - is to tickle our feet. We often hang out together in our Great Room, watching TV or YouTube videos while attempting to complete household chores. (You can guess which family members are busy with what.)

Here's the scene: While busy with whatever compels us, we remain basically within reach of each other; and if someone has a bare foot close to Stross, he'll reach out at some point to tickle it. He's consistent. He always approaches the foot with a sneaky gesture and a grin of anticipation. Plus - always - his tickling persists with a smiling, sing-song line of questioning: "Does it tickle? Huh? Are you ticklish?"

We always respond "yes." No matter what, and he always chuckles his incredible, deep-bellied Stross chuckle (a borderline laugh), as we smile. No matter what.

Stross might not know what it feels like to have his feet tickled, but we sure know the delight of having him tickle ours.

And based on his visible joy, I think he enjoys the deepest pleasure.

That tickles me beyond what anyone can know.
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