Bug likes playing games. This is good because I do to. Winwin.
She loves climbing. When we're settling her to sleep she'll spend a while climbing up and over Bear. First she'll play 'stick arse in face and wiggle.' I sing an accompanying 'arse in face' song. She'll then climb up Bear's raised knees and throw herself off the other side landing head first in mattress.
It is early years base jumping.
She repeats it half a dozen times before collapsing into Bear's arms giggling. Sometimes she plays it first thing in the morning. The fresh nappy of the night before has been replaced by a sagging bag of piss. I sing the 'arse in face' song throwing in the occasional 'it's gonna burst!' to spice things up. Bear never gets bored.
Wiggle. Climb. Jump.
She's the world's worst at hide and seek. Truly awful.
I'll cover her with a duvet and say 'where's Bug?' She'll instantly
throw the duvet off and sing 'hereiam!' Other times she'll play while
pretending to drink from a toy cup.
'Where's Bug?' I ask.
A gentle 'sup sup' rises from behind the sofa.
'If only she'd give me a sign!'
'No. She's too good for me.'
At which point she jumps out: hereiam!
She likes playing football. When she first started toddling we'd take a walk through the local park and Bug would make a b-line for any ball related activity. She wasn't great on the kicking side so would often just pick a ball up and look deliriously happy.
Once we were parkwards and there were a group of rough looking teenagers having a kick about. Bug doesn't know the difference between roughness and sweetness -- she's a better person than me -- and headed straight for the football. The lads stopped playing, had a quick discussion, and gave Bug a back-up-ball that was sat behind the goals. She spent 30 minutes walking up and down the touchline with a ball in her hands as big as her smile.The lads kept taking it in turns to come over and play with her. It was beautiful.
Judge not lest ye be a complete bastard.
I am worried about the day she's able to challenge me competitively. I can be summed up in a few words: I hate losing. Hate it. Makes me feel sick.
Me and Bear (and I) once went tenpin bowling with a friend and his 7 year old brother. At the time I went bowling a lot. I started off purposefully missing and letting the kid win.
It felt good.
I am a king among men.
It stopped feeling good when I realised the kid was winning.
'Fuck that,' I thought, and got a strike straight away.
Bear looked at me.
'Accident,' I said.
Accident my arse. Strike followed half strike followed strike until I'd beaten that damn kid to the ground.
'Fucking yes!' I shouted on winning.
Bear and my friend stood in a silence punctuated only by the quiet sobbing of a 7 year old child.
Would I be any different with Bug? Probably not. Will she enjoy beating me to the ground? Probably so.
Bye for now.