Frequently, at the end of the day, out of Noah's mouth, the words, "Let's wrestle" will trumpet. This is a call to Daddy and Emme and immediately the volume in the house rises. Dad moves the table out of the way, not far enough out of the way if you ask me. Of course, no one did, by the way, ask me. Emme comes running. She loves this game from the fringe. She wants to be just like Noah, but she isn't. She runs around on her tip toes, yelling me, me! She needs kid gloves. And Daddy is happy to oblige. Noah wants to be thrown into the air and slammed onto the couch. I wince from the corner. I just know someone is going to get hurt. But, through some miracle, no one ever does. I have, however, noticed Noah walking away rubbing his bum.
Noah's proudest moment is when he can actually knock Dad over.
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