Wrestling

Graham's teacher sent home a report a week or so ago saying that Graham had been behaving a little bit erratically while standing in line, flailing with arms and legs, that sort of thing. She asked if something had changed at home recently.

Mary called Kate, who suggested.... wrestling!  Yes, as dad, it is now amongst my job responsibilities to wrestle more with Graham.  And, as is often the case, Kate's advice was spot on. Thankfully, we have a new and soft rug in rec room, sitting atop the already soft carpet, so we've got a doubly comfy wrestling surface. Graham, reaching down deep, has discovered new reservoirs of strength, and has somehow managed to pin me most every time, often by pushing his mighty noggin into my chest in a move reminiscent of a kinder, gentler Zidane.

The other night, in bed, he asked me: "How much do you weight?" "180", I told him.  And he rolled his eyes toward the top bunk, marvelling at his tremendous strength.  "And I only weigh about forty pounds!" There was no need to complete his thought for him.