Wrestle right there!

Upon arriving home from dance and Tae Kwon Do I was greeted by my baby girl. She in her pink Elmo flannel jammies unbuttoned with her wet curly hair. The bright smile on her face, the tight squeeze on my leg and, "Hi Mommy." make a mom's night. Pajamas and brush teeth instructions echo from both hubby and I and the shuffle of feet going from here to there do not reassure obedience. Upon finishing the organization of stuff from car to home I engulf #4. She relaxes completely in my arms and tells me this, "Daddy is going to wrestle right there!" I nod knowing this later hour typically does not allow such play but she repeats herself until I consent. I am commanded to situate myself on the coach, laying back on the pillow she has straightened for me and wait. Daddy ran to and fro in a hide and seek kind of game with #3, his best bud. #3 turns out to be a bit chicken to go down the steps and find Daddy and littlest sis joins in. Bible time was near to commence when darn it all #4 didn't forget. "Wrestle right there Daddy."

Who can say no to that girl really? I mean I stand my ground when life lessons are at stake but in the greater scheme of life a bit later bedtime won't matter, the memories they will stick. "It's on!" shouts #3. You can probably hear the rumble from miles away, heck many of you thought it was the impending rain. Nope it was the war cry of my youngest male powerhouse who is quickly rivaling his brother, the tribal sound from my oldest son currently studying Indian tribes and claims to be perfecting such noise. It also includes the middle child #2 unafraid to jump right in and take any of her brothers on too. Back and forth they all went, sometimes fighting with each other, other times jumping across or over Daddy. #3 is like a Mexican jumping bean soaring in the air as he dives to power drive Daddy and misses. Those are the moments I almost picture him on WWF live or something. He can turn it on and off, faking an injury and stopping the room only to laugh at your belief. Watching him become a man is an amazing feat. My oldest son has trekked along this road so very different than him.

All at once, predictable in design the fun ends not from a need of me the medic but from #4. The three have collided together and the noise is a bit much. Though securely by my side her arm behind my neck reassuring me of all things, she screeches out in tears. Her forehead is creased and her eyes peer down. She is scowling at them all, hands to her face as if in pain. "Too loud, too loud!" she says between sobs as if we are in fact hurting her ears. All good things must eventually end and well this was as good a time as any.

Bibles are passed out, prayers are said and a group hug closes out the precious family time. Bedtime was in fact 45 minutes late yet not a moment too soon. My husband smiled and said, "You wanted 4, (pointing and counting) 1, 2, 3,4." Yep, I sure did.