Toddler Wrestling

I have no brother. 

No, I haven't been betrayed.  It's simply a statement of fact.  It's also why I think wrestling has always been a bit odd to me. 

Friends of mine with brothers, however, seemed to wrestle at the drop of a hat.  Visits to friends with brothers generally started off normally, at least for me.  We'd begin with some toys, a bike ride outside, or perhaps a video game.  But within a few minutes, having been lost in my own pursuits, I'd turn to find my friend locked in a life or death struggle of kicking, punching, screaming, laughing, spitting, mocking, stomping, head-butting, and, of course, farting.  I'd generally go on playing by myself during the debauchery.  Particularly if I had access to Legos. 

In short, as something one does for fun, wrestling was always near the bottom of my list.  So it is with considerable surprise that the favorite activity of my newly-walking daughter is to beat the living crap out of me. 

Having sought me out, Mimi's plan of action will differ depending on whether on sitting, standing, or laying down.  Standing: she'll just ignore me or maybe, if I'm lucky, give my leg a hug.  Sitting: this usually results in her bringing me a toy or a book or, more often, a scrap of something she's ripped to shreds out of sight in another room.  Laying down: to Mimi, this is a clear invitation to abuse.  She'll generally begin with a lunge onto my stomach, followed by several kicks to the face as she climbs on top of me.  Now in position, Mimi will proceed to pound my chest with her forehead while giggling.  Seriously, what's wrong with this girl?  Satisfied with the damage inflicted, she'll then climb down with several swift kicks to the groin. 

It's not a pretty sight.  Each time I rise from the floor, defeated an in abject pain, I wonder how I got myself into this abusive relationship.  But still, at the same time, I'm thankful for it.  It's actually starting to grow on me.  Let's take a closer look at this strange new phenomenon. 

First off, Mimi identifies her prey.

She then determines a route up the target that will provide the greatest bodily harm. 

There's still danger, though.  Mimi knows that despite her prey's fat and lumpen body it may try to fight back.  She looks for a weakness. 

And, having discovered one, quickly renders her prey blind and helpless. 

The target now fully disarmed and defenseless, Mimi goes to work.  There is no photographic evidence of this.  It's rather hard to take pictures while being pummeled. 

5 minutes later, the defeated father whimpering on the floor in the fetal position, Mimi kicks back with a celebratory swig of victory milk. 

When Mimi came into my life I knew there would be some rough-housing.  I just didn't know how much fun it would be.  As might be expected, Mimi's enjoyment of violence isn't confined to wrestling alone.  She also enjoys being bonked on the head, spun around the room, flipped upside down, and tickled into submission.  But that's for another post.  Perhaps to come when she draws first blood.