Somewhere way back in time, when my bros were not quite the developed jocks they are today, back when I was the tall one, and they didn't each easily outweigh me by a good 50 pounds, one or both of them (who can really remember at this point?) decided it would be the funniest thing in the world to announce, "Kt's got the football!" and then tackle me. For many painful downs.
By the time they got taller than me, I was, shall we say, less than amused by the thought of ending up on the bottom of the dogpile. But, when they outweigh me and actually use their muscles, I have two options:
1) Sit r.i.g.h.t.n.e.x.t.t.o.m.o.m. so close, I'm practically in her lap and hope she'll rescue me,
and when that fails, and I'm on the bottom again,
2) Ruthlessly pull leg hairs.
Since I'd like to be bruise-free, I'm stating, again, for the record, when the family shows up this weekend for PMac's lax tournament, KtMac does NOT have the football!
Mac kids clean up good.
Seriously peeps, this is going on record as one of the longest work days ever (falling only behind any work day that ends with me traveling somewhere) as I stare at the clock and anxiously await their arrival. Hope y'all have a great weekend too! (And here's hoping that come Monday morning, I'm blissfully bruise-free...)