Through the influences of an older child, my son has become enthralled with a game that we all surely played as children. That would typically be fine with me -- a passing of the torch, so to speak, for my son to be playing the games I played in my youth.
This time, however, I've got little romantic nostalgia and am instead now cursing whoever invented Punch Bug.
That's right, my son has become the keenest lookout for VW Beetles the world has ever known. The boy can spot at Bug at two miles -- two and a half in clear weather.
What really makes this game irritating is that I have to willingly submit to the beating every time.
"Give me your hand! Give me your hand!" he pipes excitedly from the back seat.
At which point I drape my arm back there for him to wallop me and shout "Punch bug!"
In all fairness, he doesn't really punch. He balls up his little fist and does little more than tap me on the arm -- just enough to be able to say he's gotten me. But it remains hilarious to me that I have to deliver my own appendage to him for, albeit mild, abuse.
I guess it's better than the days that will surely come in which he'll lean forward in his seat and deliver a sock in the shoulder worthy of the growing strength and lack of restraint of an 11-year-old. Any chance Volkswagen's going to discontinue Beetles anytime soon?
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