He Got Me

I remember when my children were babies and we had frequent back-and-forth moments when they cried to be picked up, then - after what felt like mere seconds in my arms - they wiggled and cried because they wanted to be put back down.
Up and down.
Up and down.
Finally, with a sense of exasperation, I would say, "Child! Do you want to be up or down???"

Then they turned into toddlers who would grunt and point at objects which I would pick up and put into their pudgy little hands. In the blink of an eye that toddler would throw the desired object onto the floor, and grunt and point. So I'd retrieve it again and give it back, only to watch it be thrown down again.
And, surely, the grunts would follow.
Eventually I got tired of the game and I would ask, "Alright. Do you want it, or not?"

When they became small children with more autonomy I was cut out of the game, but the yo-yo nature of things continued. However, this time the offense was the slamming door (If it got closed at all.) and the stream of snow or leaves or cut grass or mud - depending on the season.
You know what I'm talking about, right?
The contsant running in and out of the house by children who can't decide which location is more fun, who keep remembering new things they "NEED" to have with them, or who simply can't sit still in one spot for more than five minutes.
And I (After the hundredth time the door got slammed and the floor got more dirty.) moaned loudly, "Either you're in, or you're out. Make a decision!"

Then those children became teenagers and a different door was constantly opening and closing.
The refrigerator door. (And this was particularly true with the boys.)
I cannot count the times I would witness them opening the refrigerator door, looking inside for several moments, then closing the door with a sigh and walking away. But it almost never failed that they would return to the kitchen less than 15 minutes later, and repeat the process.
Open refrigerator. Look inside. For a while. Sigh. Close refrigerator. Walk away.
Repeat, ad nauseam.
Until I finally put my foot down and declared, "New options are not going to magically appear in the refrigerator. Are you going to eat what's in there, or not???"

So, why am I thinking about these moments?
Well, because yesterday I was doing my workout downstairs while Matthew was in the kitchen.
For one of my exercises I ran up the stairs, skipping every other step.
Ten times.
Which means while Matthew was eating breakfast he heard clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp. Then he saw me appear in the doorway, turn around, and go back down.
And on rep number seven he met me at the top of the steps and asked, "Are you staying up or down?"
On my way back down the stairs I said, "I'll be up three more times!"
And I thought, Well played, son. You got me!