The Pastor is the best Dad. Tonight was a “wrastling” night. On wrastling nights we move the coffee table and everyone pretty much tries to take each other down. Dad is the centerpiece of the whole affair. Usually there are a few knocked heads and a couple of tears shed but most of the time is spent in raucous laughter and barbaric chest beating. It’s a very manly business, wrastling is.
What a guy. He just lays himself out there like the sacraficial lamb. He loves every minute of it… well, except maybe when he gets his neck stepped on or something.
Tonight my five year old, came over to me after taking Daddy on and said, “Mom! That was a tough wrastle! Daddy’s big. Mom!! YOU need to wrastle Daddy. Your about his size. You can do it! Do it Mom!! Do it!! Wrastle Dad!!”
Ummm…Errr… well… uhh….
A couple of days ago we took our boys to the park after dinner. My littlest man just loves the swings. He’s not even two yet and insists on riding the big kid swing. He’s been riding on the big swing since he was about 21 months old. He is no one to be left behind… I think this is pretty typical fourth boy stuff. Has to be big just like everyone else. He now also prefers to sit at the table rather than in his high chair. I cannot believe how big he is getting.
He also taught himself rather quickly how to get off and I don’t know why but I think it’s the cutest thing (I have a feeling that the reason has something to do with him being my last baby…Hmmm… what do you think?!) He is the most confident little person I think I’ve ever met.