Justin and I like to unwind at the end of the day with a little “rough-housing.” It usually begins sometime after dinner and can take place on either the sofa or the master bedroom. (I prefer the bedroom just because there is more space and more pillows just in case someone gets hurt.) I know that playtime has begun when Justin rips off his shirt, flexes his tiny muscles, and then flings himself onto me.

However, I’ve come to the realization that playtime usually comes to an end when someone gets hurt!! And, that someone is ALWAYS me! And – it’s not that I get “hurt” – it’s that I get whacked in the groin!!!!! My “kibbles and bits” have taken a severe beating over the past few years thanks to a certain 3 ½ year old who lives in my house.

When I was growing up my father and I would play, too. We would be in the backyard throwing the baseball around and I would always ask for “just one more.” Inevitably, that last throw would hit me in the head and I would run into the house crying! Now, I pray for a baseball to be thrown at my head!!

These days, I get punched in the “peepee”, kicked in my “kiwis,” or smacked on the “schmeckle”. He has clobbered me with his fists, knees, elbows, feet, and he has even run head-first into my “family jewels.” He’s also used inanimate objects! I’ve been beaten with a waffle ball bat and a plastic fishing rod. He’s even managed to bring me down with a well thrown Hot Wheels car at “Captain Winky and his Two First Mates.”

I now have a theory – he’s trying to prevent me from procreating! That’s right! I am starting to wonder if Justin is taking steps to ensure that he is an only child!

He’s like an explorer who crosses a bridge and then burns it so that no one can follow him.