Saturday, November 25, 2006
Just got in from a massive snowball fight in the front yard.
Okay, not really massive, just me and The Boy, but I really whooped his ass.
(Any four-year old who thinks he can take me is going to be in for a big surprise.)
It started out as shoveling the driveway, and then it escalated from there. Words were said, battle lines were drawn, and the warriors met over by the skinny tree on the front lawn.
He almost got the jump on me, but I told him Santa was standing behind him and tagged him good when he turned to look. That only phased him for a second. (He's quick - he has his Daddy's reflexes.) After he launched a barrage of snowballs at me, I realized that if I took one step back, I would be out of his throwing range. (The boys got accuracy, but not a lot of power - yet.)
Afterwards it was easy to pummel him into submission with a flurry of white doom. He accepted defeat gracefully, and the obligatory face-wash was punishment enough. I know he'll think twice before taking on the old man again.
As I walked back into the garage in Victory, he said he had a present for me. I turned to look, expecting a hug for World's Best Dad ™ and BAM! Snowball right in the face.
He's a crafty little bugger, I'll give him that.
Just like his Dad.