The Fighting Three's

The terrible two's have dissolved away for my cousin Riley into a new stage of life. I don't know how else to describe it but, the fighting three's. Being raised predominatley by a single father she is surrounded by quite a lot of testosterone, and innudated by a lot of boxing and wrestling type television programs. It is no wonder that in the middle of playing something like 'shopping cart' she will turn to me and say, "let's get down on the carpet and fight."

"I don't feel like fighting right now. Why don't you go see what Rusty is doing?" Armed with a pillow Riley is now on the hunt for my brother Rusty to play a fighting game.

Sometimes when Riley is totally relaxed, just about to go to sleep she makes a face. It is her baby face, still chubby and round with her mouth closed and her eyes concentrated. I miss this face, as it is the one I spent months looking at and taking care of. She never talked back or squealed at me, never invited me to fight with her on the carpet. She was just a little bundle of wiggling joy who I was the boss of and got to feed canned baby food and graham crackers to daily. I miss that face.

Riley has now resurfaced with Rusty behind her, her pink sundress flouncing around her as she prepares her battle stances. She smacks him with a pillow. They roll to the ground locked together in a serious wrestling move.

Riley goes in for the next round with the bucket that the blocks are housed in on her head. It is her helmet. I am cheering out "go bucket head!" as she charges Rusty, but the 'bucket head' comment was too hilarious for her and she collapses in his arms in a fit of giggles. "Nanny, come fight with us", she laughs. As she removes the bucket from her head she stands up and SLAMS Rusty with a pillow. I refuse to fight with them on this day.