When my brother and I were small, my father “dribbled” us at night while we were in bed.  I had kind of forgotten this tradition until my brother spent the night recently and reminded me, as he observed some of our evening routine.  So, I have begun dribbling BB, my hand just above her belly on her ribcage, bouncing her up and down like a basketball.  It’s delightful for lots of giggles.  Tonight I said to her,

Me:  You know who dribbled me when I was a little girl?

BB:  No.

Me: Granddad did.

BB: And who dribbled him when he was a little boy?

Me:  Hmmmmm, I don’t know.  We’ll have to ask him.

I love that she wondered about my 87-year-old father as a little boy, as the idea of him being dribbled as a little boy has never occurred to me.  I’m just not that flexible of a thinker.  She continues to astound me and we will need to check in about this over Thanksgiving.


2 Responses

  1. I know 2 little boys who might just get dribbled this weekend. Gotta keep up with family traditions!

  2. i never knew it was called dribbling, i’ve been doing this to E for months. no one had ever done it to me that i can remember, but you are right, it brings on lots of laughter.

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