It was raining when we came out of basket ball the other week. My child asked for the car keys. "Why?" I asked.
"Because I'm going to be at the car before you are," they said.
"Bull," I replied and we both raced the 200 metres to the car. They thrashed me, beat me by thirty yards. I can still beat them in an arm wrestle, and I can lift more and walk further before I blow out. But they're catching up. It's a great trick to lift Dad up and stagger round the kitchen, going slowly purple. Dad gets his own back by wrapping on tight and refusing to be put down! It's wonderful. When they beat me I had this great feeling of delight. My kid is growing up, and it's grand!
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