Any of you who know Chase know that he is great at roughing-up. This day was a particularly family centered day in which he and Enoch had all day to rough each other up. Chase leaned against one counter and stretched his legs to the opposing counter making a sort of bridge between the two. Tantilizing to any two-year-old, Enoch climbed up Chase and wriggled his body over the bridge. On one (or several) trip over the “bridge” Chase quickly opened his legs leaving a gap through which Enoch could fall, in the true spirit of childish rough-housing. Enoch, like the monkey he is, clung to the masculine legs once supporting his weight while Chase spotted from beneath to ensure no serious damage would occur (yes, that means Chase’s flexability has increased to those of you trying to picture the image). Enoch laughed with each potential drop and asked to do it over and over again. One particular time Enoch moved more cautiously and held more securely than usual which prohibited the full effect of falling through the legs. Chase teasingly grabbed Enoch and began to tickle him, “Where’s the faith huh? Where’s the faith?!” . . . Turns out this is where the “fathe” is.
Several days following the event Enoch was complaining how hungry he was. I was struggling to get dinner ready for a husband about to come home and a toddler who was as impatient as toddlers are. “Enoch hungwy Mama. Tummy talk’n.” he’d explain. In an effort to distract this conversation I asked, “How hungry are you Enoch, show me with your arms how hungry you are.” 
I’m wondering if we could make this an international measurment.
PETERSEN: Vermont Chapter 