Whenever all the boys get together, the competition goes wild. Naturally, there had to be a tug-of-war to determine who was the strongest.
Caleb (15) is now bigger than his Army sergeant, older brother. Their muscles flexed like ancient gladiators. It was a draw.
Naturally, I had to show the young punks who was boss. But, as I picked up the rope, Darla ran out of the house screaming.
“You’re going to have another heart attack! What are you thinking?”
“I’ll be fine!” I said, and threw the other end of the rope to Caleb. It was no contest. I yanked the 6 ft tall teenybopper across the line. He let me win.
Dave Jr. toed the line and I knew he wasn’t going to be so easy. He pulled like a wild jack ass. My eyes bulged and my heart pounded, but I finally dragged the Sarge across the line.
I smacked him across the back of his head.
“Ouch, what was that for?”
“You didn’t let me win! Caleb let me win. It’s Father’s Day. What were you thinking?”
The whole family chimed in as I fell against the hood of the car to catch my breath. I milked it for all it was worth.
“Yeah, you should have let Dad win! Caleb did.” they jeered. It was great.
The taunting followed him all the way into the house.
Ah, Father’s Day.