My son has spent the last 20 minutes wrestling a pillow. He is kicking and punching it into submission, shouting in some strange language I do not recognize nor comprehend.
As I sit here, watching him deliver several uppercut and roundhouse combinations, I realize that I'll always remember this moment.
Either as "The Exact Moment when I Knew He Would Be a Mixed Martial Arts Champion" as I clap from outside the ring. Or as "The Exact Moment when I Knew This Would Be a Problem" as I sign him out of in-house suspension in kindergarten.
3 comments:
I'm so happy this is the last one because I nearly choked on air! The kid is cool... the kid is cool
Hmm, both predictions are most likely not mutually exculsive.
In lieu of such, how about the "The Exact Moment I Knew My Son Would Kick My Ass In The Near Future For Blogging About Him"?
By the way, I'm pretty sure the capotcha word I have to verify below is "Sessted"...what kind of show you runnin here bro?
hahaha at least your son is fighting with a tangible object. as the only boy in the house, my younger brother used to fight with himself. that's right-- he would punch and kick at think air, and then fall down and moan, as if mortally wounded. i refer to it as "the exact moment i realized my brother may be insane". cheers.
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