For example, just the other day, he came home for spring break. I was in the middle of stressing out about job applications (see yesterday's post), but the moment he walked in the door, I tackled him. This was a lot easier when he wasn't a foot and a half taller than me, but I promise I made a good effort.
That night, we went to church. Turns out, Dad still has to sit in the middle of us to keep us from messing around.
Later, we went to a minor league hockey game. He and I spent the hour-long car ride (both ways) slapping, tattling, and making up silly rhyming games. We then proceeded to spend the three hour game pelting each other with popcorn.
Over dinner tonight, we were tossing the aluminum foil from the baked potatoes into each other's milk glasses.
We're children, and it drives our parents nuts. But honestly, it feels pretty darn good to go back to that mindset once in a while. When he's around, my biggest worry is how bad his farts smell. I'm laughing the entire time. And I'm relaxed. I'm me, in the purest and simplest form.
I know I can go to him when things get tough, and I often do. But I treasure the silliness he brings to my life. I love being a six-year-old once in a while.