The Nicky Fixers
Posted by theworldgonemad on January 28, 2009
There’s this great game we play. My youngest son will act as if he has just gotten hit, or smacked, or boomed, or shot by the aliens or mean guys, or enemies…or whatever he chooses to call them at that moment in time. He does this fantastic academy-award w
inning death scene where he bangs into the kitchen counter (laughing of course…for crying out loud the kid is only 5) t
hen he’ll nip the corner of the hallway, and then grabbing his injured arm/shoulder/stomach…he flops to the ground, laughing his head off, and awaits me to come to his rescue. I shout and yell, “Uh-oh! Gonna need the Nicky fixers”. And if I don’t yell it in time, he’ll bell out, “Dad! Where’s the Nicky Fixers!”
I reach behind me as if I am g
rabbing a couple of defibrillators, clap my fists together while making an electrical surge type of sound effect, and Nicky begins to smile…cuz’ he knows what’s comin’. I increase the volume of the sound effect as I grow nearer to his belly, and
Nicky’s laugh quickly turns into giggles as he attempts with all his energy to hide his growing smile with one eye open in grand anticipation of the tickling which is quickly creeping upon him. All the sudden the defribillators magically turn into 10 fingers furiously tickling this giggly young man, tickling him in every last crook and granny spot on his rib cage and belly as he enduringly tries to yell through all the laughing, “I’m alive! I’m alive!” I’ll place the imaginary
defr
ibillators behind my back and moments later the aliens attack once again…and there’s my son…lying on the ground with e grin the size of Brad’s mom waiting for me to come and revive him with the Nicky Fixers.
