Peter had been playing with a couple of super balls. I noticed he was kneeling down, looking under a big chair as if one of the balls had rolled under there, which it had done a couple minutes beforehand. Being a helpful dad, I get down and press my face against the floor and start looking for the ball under the chair. No sooner had I smooshed my cheek into the carpet than I start getting whacked on the head - with the missing super ball. Whack whack whack. No mercy, no pausing between blows to my head. At least he enjoyed it.
PS - Happy 17th monthiversary, Peter.
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A chronicle of the events up to and beyond the arrival of a first-born son, from the perspective of his old man. Now Double Sized!
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