Little Miss Thing, age 7: “Hold him down while I try to tickle his feet!”

Me: “I’m not ticklish.”

Danger Monkey, age 10: “I’ve got his arms, you get his legs!”

Me: “Help. Help. I’m totally pinned.”

LMT: “I can only hold one leg.”

DM: “I’ve got both his arms, but I think he’s just letting me win.”

Me: “And now… the tickling!”


(much tickling)

(much laughter)

DM: “Oh gross! Your breath smells like potato chips.”

Me: “You know, for a kid who eats raw onions…”

LMT: “Of course his breath stinks! This is Dad we’re talking about. Don’t get distracted. ATTACK!”


(much tickling)

(much laughter)

(much love)


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