I didn't grow up in a touchy-feely house. My parents are perfectly loving people, but they weren't so much into the hugs and kisses. And no one in our house said, "I love you" except maybe one of the talking dolls we got second-hand from kids whose parents believed in toys as opposed to, say, coffee cans and sticks.

As a result, I had a hard time saying the word when I was a child. I couldn't even read it out loud. Things weren't all that different in my husband's family.

Adam and I managed to survive, but something weird happened to us in the intervening years. I don't know if it was the effects of watching "Free to Be You and Me" or more likely, altogether too much "Love Boat."

But we are both huggy and kissy and pretty free with the "L" word, especially with our kids.

As a result, Lucy and Alice say "I love you" all the time.

They say it when they wake up. They say it during meals. They say it whenever they can't think of anything else to say. Mom? Yes? I, I, I...well, I love you. Well thanks! I love you, too.

They also say it after they've dropped poster paint on the floor, as a sort of preemptive strike.

"Um, mom? I love you. And I just spilled a lot of paint! Also, I love you."

And they say it with their friends. Just last week, I picked up Alice at school. The new boy in class - who happens to be adorable - said, "I love you, Alice!" as they were parting. She replied, "I love you, too!"

Overall, I think it's a pretty healthy thing, even if it's not quite the sincerity-fest I'd imagined. After a snowstorm that kept us pretty much housebound for two weeks. Alice said this:

"I love you, Mom. Even more than I love snow. But I really hate snow."

This weekend, we were playing a game of What Would You Do to Save My Life. I asked Alice, who hates fruit, "Would you eat a blueberry to save my life? One teeny, weeny blueberry?"

"Mom, I tried a blueberry before," she said. "I didn't like it."

"But Alice," I replied. "It's to save my life."

She remained unmoved. "You're a grownup," she said. "You'll land on your feet."

I don't know about landing on my feet. But it's certainly nice to know where I stand.