My tiny baby boy can finally beat me in a wrestling match. I knew this day would come, I just didn't expect it to come so soon. Here's what happened:
He got home from school today and told me a little about his day and we kidded around with each other and he got a little playfully sassy so I said, "Oh Yeah?!" and got him on the floor and said, "Lets write a letter to Auntie Amy and tell her all about school!" which from the time he was about 3 was code for "let me pin you down to the ground and relentlessly tickle you and give you the typewriter and pretend I'm writing a letter to my sister."
He was pretty easy to get down. He's not used to his new dimensions (ridiculously long and skinny arms and legs). But as I was typing the letter to my sister, I noticed a new realization come over him. It was like he was thinking, "hey... wait a minute... she's not as strong as she used to be. And my arms are longer than hers, and I think I could turn the tables!" and he got ME down on my back and proceeded to give me a relentless typewriting. What! He's got a lot of strength and leverage in those long arms and skinny legs! Good thing he's generally so kind and gentle. I'm sure he'll be merciful with his mother.
Mitch thinks I will able to keep beating him because of my "pure meanness." Awww... I took it as a compliment at the time, but now that I write it down I'm thinking maybe it wasn't meant to be complimentary. Bastard. I'll get him.