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The Prince bought The Rabbit some boxing gloves a year or so ago. She used them for awhile as a paper weight for her pictures and scribbles.

Tonight, The Prince got them out and encouraged her to hit him silly. She took to them, perhaps a little too well. After a minute, he brought her out to give me my turn.

You've never seen anything as scary as you're five year old hauling ass on your arm, with a hawk-like intensity burrowed into her face. After a minute or so, I finally made her stop. Seriously - I was bruising.

"But I like to box, mama." She said.

That's all good, but mama needed a little break.

She took a side-long glance. Then turned and muttered. "Loser."


Anonymous said…
Your Rabbit obviously needs a little brother to practise on.
Manhattan Mama said…
Or at the very least a punching bag that's not her mama!
Mom/Mum said…
Oh dear! Sounds like she needs to pund a sandbag rather than her mama....
Web-Betty said…
Ah, five-year-olds. Aren't they grand? ;)

Mine love the big blow-up punching thing Nana bought. Better than using the little brother I guess (although it is quite the eyesore).

BTW, I've left you something on my Funhouse blog, because I love your blog!

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