The after-dinner roughhousing between Hubby and the Wee Ladies is always entertaining. He is like a Ninja who is fighting off the enemy. They keep coming at him, even after they have been tossed down. They get back up and come at him again with different moves from different angles. He is sometimes left vulnerable. He should be wearing armour. Or a plastic cup.

And what a workout this roughhousing is for him. He can get full strength training completed in just a few minutes. By bench pressing, doing leg lifts, core training, and bicep curls, squatting, and ham string curls, he finishes it off with some clean and presses. The Wee Ladies make for perfect free weights as they are lifted and tossed about the room.

Sometimes he gets kicked and hit in the wrong places, if you know what I mean. He gets a real beating from the three of them sometimes. He tries to keep himself safe, but it doesn't always work.

And so tonight, as they were all roughhousing, he got gas-pedaled in the you-know-where. He grimaced, rolled up into fetal position, and cried out like he would have after being kicked in the bits by a girl in grade school. I could only cringe and hold the Wee Ladies off momentarily as they snorted and dug and pounded their hoofs in, ready to go at him again full steam.

And all EvieG could say to him, obviously not knowing the reason for his painful outcry, was, "Daddy. Protect yourself!"

And all he could do was look at me and beg for mercy.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Family, Fun