The Hill Man’s Blogspot

Tickle Monster

He would chase us around the house, through the living room, through the kitchen, through the dining room, through the foyer, through the office, and back again. He would tickle us until we couldn’t breathe. We would attempt to come up with clever plots to distract him from catching us, but they never worked. We would take off our sneakers, thinking socks would let us move more quietly. We would run one way through the office door, and then right back out a minute later, only to find him standing in front of our new route. If we hid while he caught his breath, he would find us within seconds. If we sent Matt ahead, he would grab him, swing him over the shoulder, and come after Jake and me. Meanwhile, his prisoner squealed upside down with delight, the blood rushing to his face from the high pitched warning shrieks to his older siblings. He was too smart for our little minds, and too fast for our little legs.

We came up with a signal which meant to stop tickling. We had to sit our father down and sternly tell him that sometimes we couldn’t breathe from all of the tickling and the laughing. So we came up with a code word. When you yelled it, the tickling stopped and you were given a chance to breathe again. Not only would this stop the silent laughter during which your chest moved up and down frantically and your little lungs gasped desperately for air, but more importantly it would let us escape, only to once again be chased, caught, and then tickled. But when Dad’s smart mind didn’t fall for your little kid plots, and his grown up legs caught up to your still growing ones, and you were thrown down and tickled until you were laughing too hard to breathe, you were also laughing too hard to speak the code word.

Our real problem was that no matter how hard we tried, and how quickly we danced our thirty little fingers all over his neck and belly just like he did to us, we could not get him to mutter the code word and accept defeat. Unlike his three children who could hardly breathe even before his fingers fluttered over our skin, he was just not ticklish. The tickle monster could never be beaten at his own game.

Filed by Mr. Hillman at March 29th, 2008 under Wait until your father gets home! Tales of family...