I get a huge laugh out of watching my hubbadoo with my sons. They try to outsmart him with the remote, take him down in wrestling, race to get to the car first, and they NEVER DO. Sometimes, as their mom, I want to step in and somehow protect them, help them "win", get the upper hand-- but I don't. And I won't. Part of what shapes us is the fact that different people treat us differently, and Mister NEVER gives them more than they can handle; he also doesn't cheat them by letting them "win".
One of my current favorite boy-man exchanges was the booty kick fest known as December 2009. Mister would up-kick the Rascal in the behind. To those of you who can't imagine, the up-kick is when you bend your leg at the knee and swing around until you lightly (or perhaps not so lightly) sideswipe someone else in the caboose. It's definitely not intended to harm and is quite silly. Every time he booted the Rascal in the fanny, Mister would say, "Merry Christmas!" Finally, Rascal responded, "Worst. Present. EVER!"
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