Like Sister, Like Son

Yesterday morning after the girls drove off to school & work, Chase and I hung out in the living room, sitting on the carpet together, munching pieces of yogurt bar, looking at tv. On his knees, Chase placed the top of his head on the carpet, straightened his legs, bending his body into a little arch. Dad gets all excited.

"Can you do a summersault?" I say. Chase gives me the puzzled expression he has invented for us in just the last few days. So I clear a space, (a big space) and get ready to give my offspring and heir an object lesson of perfection in form. But what Chase actually gets to witness is a pathetic & sad straining of hundreds of pounds of crashing, ex-football player, glory days long gone, middle-aged girth. I'm actually a little out of breath after this 10 seconds of physcial activity. My shoulder muscles ache from the weight just placed on them.

Chase gives me a look like "...What on Earth was that Dad?" Then little 14-month-old elastic boy quickly performs two perfect summersaults in quick succession, takes his seat on the carpet, gets his juice sippy-cup, looks at me like "That's how you do it Dad..." and resumes watching tv.

Later, I brag to Mom & Sister about how quickly Chase picked up on my demonstration. Sister gives me the same look that brother gave me earlier, and informs me that under her tutelage, Chase has long since mastered this most basic of tumbling moves.

Oh well. Leave the race to the swiftest. I'll stick to badminton.