If there’s one thing my son loves, it’s a good pillow fight.
Actually, he’s ok with even a bad pillow fight. It doesn’t really matter, as long as pillows are involved.
I’m not really sure how we ever started on pillow fights (but really, how does anyone ever start?). But if there’s one thing he is always willilng to do every night, it’s have a pillow fight.
Our fights usually start with two pillows, and then it somehow mushrooms into four, six, or more pillows as he runs to each bed to find additional “weapons.”
And at some point during each of these battles, we also start engaging in wrestling as well. There’s nothing quite like someone holding you down and hitting you with a pillow at the same time.
I’m not always energetic enough to feel like pillow fighting every night. But even when I try to decline, I sometimes find myself on the receiving end of a pillow.
And then it’s on – whether I want it to be or not.
We’ve been lucky. So far neither of us have been hurt. Well, not seriously hurt, anyway. And nothing (valuable) has been been broken . . . yet.
I’m not sure what it is about boys and wrestling and rambuctious play. I guess it’s a chance to take out some energy. But my son comes home from school and goes almost non-stop until bedtime. He’s one of the few people I’ve seen who can work up a sweat reading a book. So in our pillow fights, he always has the energy advantage over his dad.
He’s also gotten where he wants to arm wrestle all the time. So far he hasn’t beaten me. But what I haven’t told him is that I can feel him getting closer to it all the time.
It’s kind of like on Lion King, as Simba slowly grows up, preparing to take over one day for Mufasa.
It won’t be long until my son’s too old to enjoy playing around like this. And beating me at arm wrestling or some such sport when he does.
But in the meantime, I’ll enjoy the time I have with me now. Even if it means getting hit in the face with a pillow a few times along the way.