I was out to my brother and sister-in-law’s house for dinner last night and got there early enough to play with Squiggle Bug for a while. He was so excited to see me. He eagerly grabbed my finger and led me toward the gate that temporarily blocked the doorway to the landing leading to the basement steps. The doorknob had broken and my brother had to fix it still, so the door was open. First, Grandma got him some dry pants and put his bright green fuzzy monster-foot slippers on him. I made my way over the gate and then lifted him over. Squiggle Bug showed me the Christmas tree first, ogling the white LED lights and ornaments. Then it was time to go down to the basement to play. I turned the light on and he took my hand to walk down the stairs. Once at the bottom of the stairs, he took off into the dark and I hit the lights as fast as I could so he wouldn’t trip over anything. The basement is the size of a full-size basketball court, and we get two-thirds of that to play in! He led me here and there and raced me on his tractor and I chased him around and around, even on the hobby horse, until we were both sweaty and tired. Squiggle Bug is hard to tire out, so if that’s any indication of how hard we played… He decided it was fun to climb the stairs, throw the ball down the stairs, go get the ball, then do it all again during this whole process. I must’ve gone up and down those 12 stairs at least 80 times with him! When we got done playing, I lifted him back over the gate, made my own way over the gate, and sat down on the couch in the TV room to rest. As I mentioned, we had worked up a sweat, and my mom mentioned that to me. I changed shirts quickly before supper because I really reeked. I was lucky I even had another shirt with me! What a great time I had with my nephew Squiggle Bug, though! If you ever need fun exercise, play with a two-year-old! It’ll melt the fat right off! 😂
Content Rating PG, for the most part
I try to keep the content of my posts in the PG range (meaning that maybe your 13-year-old should not read it... Just kidding!) - you know, something I could get away with tastefully in the town square without getting lynched, tarred-and-feathered, or hung (and something my mother would NOT wash my mouth out with soap for). As far as what age you have to be to understand some of the subtleties of my humor in writing and/or speaking, well... That may vary. A lot.