My wife warns me not to get down on the floor.
Every time I do it leads to the same thing. Human jungle gym.
One - if not both - of the kids come running directly at me and throw themselves on top of me.
I have four pairs of pants that have holes worn in both knees from playing on the floor with them. Likely my wife will comment with the correct number of ruined pants if I'm wrong.
Lee Dungarees... Can't Bust 'Em, eh? They clearly don't have kids. Those pants bit the dust as quickly as any of the others
Why do I keep doing it? Because I'm a big kid? That's part of it!
I realize there will come a day when they don't want to wrestle with their dad. They will stop wanting to do a lot of different things with me. I'll be completely uncool.
Until that time - or my knees go bad - I'll keep getting down onto the floor.
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