Right now, I'm lying in a darkened bedroom, next to my wife and my son. She's still (kind of) awake at this point, for no really good reason. Likely, she caught a little bit of shuteye after dinner tonight, which has kept her up. The Boy is awake, also; he woke up when I came in and had a brief conversation with my wife (regarding work ethic, which I won't get into right now. Not my work ethic, or hers).
Anyway, she's snuggling him close, and he's sucking his thumb and playing a little bit. More specifically, he's flailing his arms around (as he's prone to do) and whacking her in the shoulder and cheek. I admit to feeling a little bit of satisfaction as I watch this, partly because:
1) I'm a cold, heartless individual, and
2) I'm glad I'm not the only one he uses as a punching bag.
Did I remember to mention the way he decided to wake me from our nap on Monday? I had given him a water bottle to play with, and he decided to use that as a blunt instrument to pummel me into consciousness.
I'm glad to know that I'm raising a future mob enforcer.