This morning my husband and I were laying in bed when our lovely daughter A, starts screaming for help. She is in the shower and needs more cream rinse. I get up and tend to her needs. When I get back to bed my husband starts whining in his best little A voice, “help me”. I said “You want help.” “Sure, I will help you.” “I will help you wake up”, and I start to kind of poke him and tickle him. I have a tactical advantage here because I am not the least bit ticklish anywhere.
This does wake him right up and he grabs my wrist and without thinking I remember exactly how to twist my wrist in and down and wouldn’t you know it, right out my hand comes. I am so excited I start doing the smack talk thing and I grab his wrist. He is a little more determined now and he grabs both my wrists and jumps on top of me, but I am able to free one hand and tickle him. Things kind of fall apart at this point because we are laughing so hard.
A few minutes later I see my pen sitting next to my bed and I decide to test his situational awareness and see if I can stab him in the neck. This is more me being the “bad” guy then a defensive strategy, but I am amped up from my earlier success and I have a desire to play some more.
We are casually chit chatting when I grab him and artfully jab him several times in the neck and try to sweep his legs out from under him, but he has good balance and he wrestles me to the bed. Giggling too much thwarts any further success by me.
The kids are all awake and we do the mommy and daddy thing. A few minutes later my husband reaches over, gentle grabs my wrist and pulls me into him and he hugs me. He is being sweet. I like being there. I will admit to a very brief urge to knee him in the groin, slam his head on my leg and toss him to the ground, but since I’m not really ready for the counter attack to that particular “drill” I decided to suppress that urge. Plus, I am extremely fond of his groin area.
My husband said this morning.s escapades are not exactly how June Cleaver sent Ward off to work. To which I responded, “I am not June Cleaver.”
I am so ready to move a little past the crawl phase.