I got home a little late tonight and Charles was already upstairs with Mom. When I came up and he saw, he gave a little squeak and came barreling down the hallway at me in his little white union suit. Then he barreled right past me, heading for the other end of the hallway where the door to the laundry room is. Charles was in the mood for door tag. This is game he likes to play with Dad which consists of running down the hall from the parent bedroom to tha laundry room door, slapping the door and then running back. If Dad makes sound effects when the door is slapped, it’s extra giggles. Sometimes there is something extra in Mom and Dad’s room, either slapping the sweater chest or Charles flinging himself face first into a chair (Dad doesn’t do the chair thing although he’s willing to help out with more sound effects).
We played quite a lot of door tag, which Mom appreciated because it helped to run down Charles was not the least bit tired. Of course, he sounded like a miniature runaway stream engine, bumping, wheezing and hissing down the hall. Enough rounds of door tag take their tool, however, and by the end Charles had gone from energy boy to holding onto a wall to remain upright to wobbling wildly down the hall. It was bad enough that I felt that I had to stop him before he ran full tilt into a door frame.