Simon might be sweet, polite, and gentle by nature, but he’s still a boy. A six-year-old boy, more specifically. And sometimes what a six-year-old boy wants and needs more than anything is a good session of wailing on someone.
Poor Uncle Dan bore the brunt of sustained stuffed dolphin assault in Hilton Head this summer. Matt’s been on the receiving end of some aggression for months now, himself. And this past Sunday his Uncle Steve gave Simon soccer Boppers for his birthday. For those not in the know, these are inflatable boxing pillows that facilitate boxing without broken hands, broken noses, or lost teeth.
It was Ben’s idea, of course. My nephew is much more aggressive and fearless than Simon, and he’s been wanting to box for some time now. (Not going to happen.) Steve smiled weakly at me, slightly concerned that his peace love and harmony minded sister might disapprove of the gift. I smiled weakly back, figuring the gift would be good for a few minutes of fun and then forgotten. Or deflated. Definitely one of those.
At which point in time my empathetic, gentle boy put on his Socker Boppers and proceeded to wail on his cousin, his dad, and both his uncles for something like 30 minutes. He punched until his arm hurt, his breath came up short, and the hair on the back of his neck was wet with sweat. Basically, he punched until he lacked the strength to stand. It was a self-inflicted rope-a-dope!
The Socker Boppers have made repeat appearances every night since then. Our at-home routine is now comprised of dinner, homework, map-time, soccer (weather permitting), drumming, The Hobbit (Matt’s reading it to Simon for a second time), and hitting. As the suckers are still intact, we’re off to buy a second pair soon, too. Daddy needs a way to defend himself from the kindergarten pugilist.