I remember...Getting thrown by my dad

When I was younger my dad and mom would always tuck us in at night. Actually, they tucked us in at night pretty much all the way through high school.

Now getting "tucked in" morphed through the years (age appropriately) but began with the following routine: play (dad) /story (mom), covers up, kiss, and the habitual saying "Goodnight...sleep tight...don't let the bedbugs bite".

I remember this happening pretty much every night. And my parents could not escape the responsibility because if one of them didn't want to do it, Jon and I would continue to yell, "Mom/Dad, come tuck me in" every 3 minutes until they showed up to perform their duties.

As we got older, the routine began to change and items gradually started to drop off. Dad would stop playing with us (i.e. riling us up), we would read books to ourselves, and then the physical tuck-ins became rare. I'm talking about into high school though. But even then, it was a rare night when I didn't hear at bedtime a voice from mom and dad yelling: "'Night Diddy! Sleep Tight!" It was very comforting and I actually had forgotten about that until I started writing this.

Anyway, this post is specifically about the "play" responsibility that dad had with us. I'm not sure if this was done with Keri and Jamie as I only remember Jon being there. But I'm almost positive they lived through the same experiences.

When dad would come to our bedtime play, his arsenal of fun included two items:

1. Tickle them until they cry and beg for mercy.
2. Throw them onto their beds from such a distance that bathroom breaks
were needed regularly.

So the first one: When my dad tickled, it hurt. Bad. But you couldn't help but laugh. Which egged him on. So he did it more. And it hurt more. Bad. He had this insane knack for getting one of his fingers right between the ribs and jabbing at it. Seriously, we were laughing, crying, and begging him to stop all at the same time. Then when he'd stop, we'd beg for more. It was craziness. I simultaneously cringe and laugh whenever I think of it.

Number 2: This is the one I was thinking about earlier today that inspired this whole post. Dad would pick us up and stand near the bed. He would repeat the phrase: "One for the money, Two for the show, Three to get ready, and Four to GOOOOO!" The whole time he was swinging us back and forth and at "GOOOO" he would let go and we would go whizzing through the air and land on our bed, bounce about 5 times from the impact, then instantly stand up to go again.

Man, that was so much fun. I kinda wish I could do it again. I'm sure that my muscular Seth could actually do it, but it could never recreate the feeling I had with dad doing it. As a kid, it just felt like you were flying so far for so long, and of course we really weren't.

Ahhh, I loved those before bed rituals.

P.S. I know the picture of my dad has nothing to do with putting children to bed or playing with him but I included it because: a. It is a hilarious picture of him. b. this is how I remember him during the earlier times of this memory, so I thought it would work.