ORIGIN
HOW LULLABY MASSAGE BEGAN
A Moment in a Burn Unit
That Changed Everything
Years ago, I was working on a massage therapy study in a pediatric burn unit when I was introduced to a young boy with bandages and fear-filled eyes. I didn’t speak his language, and there seemed to be no way I could approach him without causing him to shrink away from me. For him, touch meant pain.
Sensing that a massage might not be well received, I chose a different path.
I pantomimed looking around the room for a telephone, then looked right at the boy and asked, “Do you have a telephone? I looked down at his foot, held out my hand and asked, "Can I use your telephone?”
Without a moment's hesitation, he lifted his foot and placed it into my open hand.
I gently lifted his foot to my ear as if answering a call, and said, "Hello?" Then I looked at his other foot and said, “Answer the phone, please,” at which point he lifted it to his ear, and said, “Hello.”
In that moment, this little boy gave me something more than just his foot. He gave me permission. His body had not been forced or persuaded. It had been invited. And happily, though somewhat to my surprise, it said yes.
The idea for the “telephone” came from a game I loved to play at home with my own daughter, who was about his age. In that moment in the hospital, I had taken off my scientist’s hat and put on my mother’s and with that shift, I knew what to do.
How the Rhyme-and-Touch
Method Was Born
I went home thinking maybe there was a way to turn this into something parents could actually use.
At the time, research was showing that massage could benefit not just babies and adults, but children too. Yet, most guidance for children’s massage was too complicated or demanding for families to use in everyday life. I began to wonder if there might be a way to design a method that drew parents in through play.
Another chapter of my life resurfaced: my early years as a ballet teacher. In ballet, positions have French names that are hard for young children to remember, so I created evocative phrases instead, like "blowing kisses" for a movement known as Port de Bras. I did the same for massage motions, translating them into images a child and a caregiver could easily grasp.
While observing professional massage therapists during a study on preschoolers, I selected motions for a child's hands, feet, arms, legs, tummy, back, and head, and gave each a memorable, child-friendly name. I then turned those names into twelve poems — simple enough to guide a caregiver's hands, and playful enough to hold a child's attention.
Inspired by contact with the little boy in the hospital burn unit, my first poem was Telephone:
Ding-a-ling-a-ling
Would you like to take this call?
Hello? Anybody home?
Can I put you on hold?
For calling long distance
Press one, two, three
For assistance press zero
The operator’s me.
That silly sounding poem engages children's attention. It also serves as a way of greeting a child, introducing the caregiver, inviting participation, and asking for permission. For caregivers, the language and imagery convey movement-based cues, guiding them to press on the ball and heel of the child’s foot, and avoid the middle section, which can be ticklish.
A second poem, Valentines, followed soon after, gentler in tone, guiding a caregiver's hands across a child's back in the shape of a heart, while verbalizing tenderness:
Valentines from east to west
Valentines as we rest
Valentines from me to you
Valentine, good night, too-da-loo….
Finally, I tried them out on my four-year-old daughter, paying close attention to what calmed her, what made her smile, what invited her to stay present.
It was through those quiet moments at home that the rhyme-and-touch method came into being.
Unwinding:
From Playful to Peaceful
While observing massage therapists working with preschoolers, I noticed how they always began face-to-face, attending to a child's hands or feet before moving toward the trunk. This positioning let children send small, non-verbal signals, such as a look of interest or a flicker of uncertainty, that the therapist could respond to with a smile or a nod. This kind of back-and-forth rarely happens in adult massage, but it seemed essential for young children.
With this in mind, Telephone was placed at the opening of Lullaby Massage, paired with a foot massage that enables eye contact from the very first moment. It's followed by rhyme-and-touch pairs arranged in a progression, from cheerful and playful to quiet and soothing, as with Valentines, so that connection builds gradually, and children become increasingly able to relax into a calmer state.
Later, the book's illustrations echo this same shift, moving from bright yellows and oranges toward cool blues and greens as the sequence closes.
This sequence is not coincidental. As my mentor, Dr. Tiffany Field, often emphasized, relaxation does not happen instantaneously. It requires a gradual process of “unwinding”. A child who is wide-awake, overstimulated, or resistant to touch cannot be asked to become still all at once.
So, unlike most books on massage that are organized around particular health concerns or body parts, Lullaby Massage is organized around a child's emotional and behavioral state, meeting children where they are — whether energetic or hesitant — and honoring the natural rhythm of unwinding from alertness to rest.
Just as important as the sequence itself is the fact that there is one. Many massage guides leave users to decide what to do first, next, and when to stop. Lullaby Massage instead offers a clear, predictable order — which for many children brings real reassurance. Knowing what comes next, and that each poem has a defined beginning and end, creates a sense of familiarity that's especially helpful for children who are anxious or sensitive to change. In this way, the sequence does more than support relaxation — it also nurtures a child's sense of confidence and control.
More than a Bedtime Routine
When I began this project, my aim was to create a pleasant bedtime routine for typical children. Hence the title Lullaby Massage, and yes, it works beautifully as something sweet and soothing for children to share with a caring adult before sleep.
What I didn’t expect was where the most compelling responses would come from.
They came not from parents of sleepy toddlers or energetic preschoolers, but from parents whose children were challenged by a range of emotional and physical difficulties. Some of the most heartrending feedback came from mothers of children on the autism spectrum, some of whom had rarely experienced meaningful physical closeness with their children.
One mother wrote on a questionnaire: “This was the first time I felt what I’d always dreamed being a mother would feel like.”
For these parents, and for others navigating complex caregiving challenges, Lullaby Massage stands apart from many of the frequently recommended practices that can come across as mechanical. Rather, it offers an experience marked by full and fulfilling contact. More than just touch, the experience integrates shared gaze, the sound and prosody of a caregiver’s voice, and the emotional message carried in the words of each poem. So, even in as little as twelve minutes, the totality of the experience resonates with children and caregivers in a way that is genuinely profound.
I came away with a fresh understanding of my task: to keep listening and learning about Lullaby Massage, and to share what I've learned thoughtfully, so that it reaches the children and families who need it most.