When the Student Defeats the Teacher

I've wrestled with my girls since they were old enough to walk. It started out with tickling them. When they got a little bigger, they started trying to tackle dad, and from there it became wrestling matches. I'd wrestle with both kids (at once) until they were tired, or occasionally, until one of them got hurt. As they got progressively bigger, more agile, more aware, and began picking up my moves, they'd ratchet up the intensity of the wrestling. For my part, there were several reasons for our wrestling around. It was partially because it was fun, partially because I don't want my girls treated like dainty, fragile little beings that will easily break, and partially because there's an aspect of self-defense in our wrestling around. We do flips, submission holds, and use pressure points.

Over the years, I've had to work harder and harder to make sure I walked away the victorious one. I've never had to give it everything I've got... in fact, I still "pull my punches" so they don't get hurt. Last night was a first though. They injured me. It's an inevitability of life that the young grow up and eventually become stronger than their parents. This weekend I began starting to see the signs of this happening to me. While wrestling around last night, they sprained my thumb. I didn't give in, but I did take the first opportunity to call it a draw. I'll be feeling this one for a week!

There's a teeny bit of injured pride here, but for the most part, I'm proud of my girls. I am watching them turn into confident, strong young women. Last night was a milestone... a little painful, but a milestone nonetheless.