I think I ceased being Yordie’s father last week. I used to be fun to play with, I think, but now I’m not good for anything but a wrestling partner. Granted, I like to play rough with my kids; I think that’s part of a job of being a father (that and letting your kids do things that mom thinks are too dangerous). I figure it’s good exercise picking up my kids and throwing them over my shoulder, letting them slide down my back, grabbing them from under my arm, pulling them back up, just to repeat it again. Yordie is a great weight for doing bench presses on my back, and if I get kisses on every down stroke, all the better.

But I decided that just playing mellow with the kids would be a good idea too. I guess I just wanted them to see me for my brain as well as my muscle 🙂 So I sat down on the floor with Yordie to play with her bus, but she wanted nothing to do with it. Now she loves that thing, but as soon as she saw me down on her level, she starts climbing all over me, wanting me to throw her up in the air.  I tried 3 or 4 times to get her to roll it back and forth with me, but pushing me over and playing horse on my belly was more fun.

I’ve become noting more than a glorified sparing partner.  At least I know that the grow out of it as I had a great come from behind win at Shoots and Ladders the other day.  Thank goodness for that ladder at 80.

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