My kids love to "high five". They've watched us play ultimate frisbee and observed the high-fiving after a goal. Their swimming instructors and gymnastics coaches give them "high fives" after well-performed task. Each well-executed kick gets a high-five at soccer practice.
The other night, after a long day with crummy weather, short tempers, and way too much energy, it was finally time for bed. Baths were completed, and pyjamas were donned. I was impatient to to put down the three rugrats as it was date night and the grandparents were babysitting. Cuddled in bed with Aisling, I was reading her repertoire of bedtime stories. Unfortunately, the commotion in the hallway kept interrupting us. Both Ceilidh and Devlin were goofing off - wrestling with each other, jumping on the bed, and generally indulging in all sorts of naughtiness. At one point, Ceilidh came in and wailed "Devlin punched me!" My knee-jerk response was "punch him back" as I had exhausted all means of trying to reason with them.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ceilidh take off running after Devlin with her arm raised and fist clenched. Within 10 seconds, I heard Devlin crying, and Ceilidh then re-appeared with a big smile on her face.
"High-five Mommy! I want a high-five!" she said with her hand held up in anticipation.
"For what?" I asked.
"I did a good job!", and nodded towards the wailing sounds coming from the next room.
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