WWE Wrestling

From the time Austin was a little boy he loved WWE wrestling.  He had a huge collection of wrestlers, a couple of rings, belts, posters and even VCR tapes of special events or match-ups.  He spent countless hours playing with his guys or practicing moves with his cousins or friends.  As time went on, I learned a great deal about the world of wrestling myself by default.  I learned who the Undertaker, Stone Cold Steve and The Rock were and recognized their entrance songs.  I learned about moves like the DDT, pile driver, stunna, and people elbow.  I smelled what the Rock was cookin.  I learned about crooked refs and dirty wrestlers and their cheating cohorts.  Never did I realize that all this seemingly useless knowledge would pay off one day.  I now know how to defend myself every night when I step into the ring, er bed, to tuck in my three year old.  He's a WEE natural and has mastered kicking me in the jaw, sippy cup slam to the brow bone, head butt to the bridge of the nose, along with scratching, hair pulling and occasionally biting.  And they said he'd never be an athlete.

Finally sleeping toddler.  Not pictured, one battered and exhausted Mama.