When I got home from work this evening, my lady drove across the river to have a belated birthday dinner with a friend.  After dinner, I gave the boys a bath and then Miles asked to play with my iPad for awhile.  His favorite game is Max and Magic Marker; a game in which your character (a young boy named Max) avoids evil 'Gobos' and advances through levels with the aid of a magical marker.  Anytime I think he's played this too much or been on the screen too long all I have to do is introduce a little WWE into our living room.  I channel my inner Rick Flair (Woo!) and start bringing the out the piledrivers and kneedrops.  J.J. loves wresting, and Miles will drop whatever he's doing to join in.

Just fun, on occasion (and because I have a little bit of a dark side), I'll lay completely motionless as if they just paralyzed me...or worse.  There's a certain part of me that wants to see what they'd do.  They don't know about 911 quite yet, but I'd assume they'd yell for help.  So lets assume I fell down the stairs and was knocked unconscious.  What would the heirs to my fortune do?  I'll tell you.  J.J. would climb on my back and jump up and down for a solid three minutes.  He'd move on to pulling my hair and laughing for a little while.  Miles would talk to me for a minute or two and then head upstairs and bang on some drums while singing "Eye of the Tiger" over and over.  In short, I'm really close to having one of those Life Alert systems put into the house.

The next game on the docket is an epic generational golf match tomorrow morning.

And with that, I'll leave you with a portrait of J.J. I grabbed tonight on the backyard swingset.  I love this shot.  You can see the energy and joy in his eyes.  It's no wonder that strangers take one look at him and say "I bet he's a real handful firecracker."

 

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