Please don't call CPS on me

I'm a bad daddy.

So one Saturday night back in April, I just finished giving the kids a bath and was getting them ready for bed. Neal (he's 6) and I start picking on each other trying to whip each other, him using his PJ pants, and me using a towel.

I was swinging slow, so he'd have time to avoid, or he'd block it. Laughing ensues. On the last shot I make, he instead turns to run away, and the towel goes CRACK!!! right behind his knee. One of those 1 in a million, Indiana Jones would be proud, type whip crack sounds. If he was a foot closer or farther, absolutely nothing would have happened.

Being his mother's son, he knows how to lay on a guilt trip. All tear choked he goes "that whip sound hurt real bad. That must be like the whips they used on Jesus at Easter."

So, to even the score, I went out and got the big fatty rubber band from the junk drawer and held it to my arm, and he pulled that bad boy about 1.5 feet away and gave me a good thwack! Then he goes "haha did that hurt? I don't even feel mine anymore!"

My son's a conniving bastard like me.