Sometimes my kids mistake me for a jungle gym. I don’t believe I look like a jungle gym but my kids must think otherwise because why else would they crawl up my legs to reach my back to swing from my arms?
And that’s usually followed by, “Hey dad, let us get on your back and ride you like a camel!” I’ve heard they are resilient creatures but I’d like to see how far a camel could travel with two kids jumping up and down on its back and spanking its butt while another child dangles from its neck yelling, “GO FASTER AND TRY TO TIP US OFF!”
None of my children can sit NEXT to me. I’ve tried for years with no luck whatsoever. We have a large and a small couch in the TV room. Occasionally I’ll try to sneak onto the small one while the kids sit comfortably on the big couch. But within 5 seconds, all three are fighting to sit on my lap.
While I told them a story in bed tonight, Anna Lynn jumped on my lap so hard it’s a good thing we have four children because I’m not sure I can biologically father any more.
I sometimes feel like that grasshopper on the Discovery channel that’s taken down buy a large army of ants. I can withstand the blow of one or two kids but I’m eventually worn down by their sheer numbers.
Yet, I wouldn’t trade these times for anything even it it means I’m the recipient of a few wet willies, noogies and the occasional wedgie. I know it won’t be long before they’ve outgrown the camel rides.