To the best of my knowledge, I have never been attacked by a small yellow duck. However, I can no longer say that this is true for Mason.
It was another hot day in the Midwest. Just standing outside for five minutes was enough to get drenched in sweat. I had been working in the garage when Mason came in with his new soccer ball. Picking it out of the middle of my work bench after he threw it there, I decided it would be a good idea to perhaps teach him how to kick his ball around…outside. I figured I was already soaked with sweat anyway, why not kick the ball around for a while?
Mason and I ran all over the yard chasing each other. I would kick the ball and both of us would run after it. As this went on, Mason got more aggressive about trying to beat me to the ball. He even went as far as to play dirty. I’m guessing he learned that from his mother…shhh, don’t tell her I said that! Anyway, I would run just ahead of him and kick the ball again. Apparently, Mason decided that it would be a good idea to push the back of my knee effectively knocking me to the ground. “I WIN” is what I heard when he reached the ball. Thought it was about time to teach about fair play.
The next time I kicked the ball, I was ready for the knee attack. I brilliantly orchestrated a flawless and very convincing fall. Arms flailing, I “accidentally” tripped Mason. Wow, did the world stop turning at that point! Time for a crying fit and a sprint back to the house to tell Mom that “Dad hit me”. Conveniently, he left out the part about tripping Dad first. Of course Laura scolded me about hitting Mason. I had to explain what really happened in order to get excused from the bare bulb, good cop-bad cop, upset mother interrogation.
After getting the story straight, it was time for Mason’s bath. All that running around made for one sweaty four year old kid and he needed one. It just wouldn’t be a bath if there weren’t at least a hundred toys in the water. Two of those toys happen to be small, yellow rubber duckies that squeak when squeezed. I guess that Mason was a little thirsty from running around outside ‘cause he decided to take a drink. Just for a mental note, it is not recommended to fill a rubber ducky with soapy bath water, put the hole to your mouth and squeeze. It happens to be a great way to choke.
After Mason gets done coughing and gagging on the presumably terrible tasting soapy bath water, he looks the duck squarely in the beak and shouts “BAD DUCK! NO CHOKE MASON”. Laura and I both looked at each other and bursted out laughing.
Word to the wise, keep an eye on those pesky ducks, they can turn on you without notice.
I’m gonna plead the 5th on playing dirty. I happen to think it is sweet that he got some of me in that huge personality of his. Everything else he got from you! Right down to his innocent expression while tattling on you… It’s hard to tell who to believe when you’re both wearing the same earnest face…