|I sometimes imagine this is what they do all night when I'm at work...|
One of my favorite stories about Mr A's dad is about the time when he was forced to massage his father's feet. Papa used to fall asleep and Mr A would try to tip-toe away before he woke back up and demanded more. Mr A claims he hated rubbing his dad's large, leathery toes, but he also credits this with his ability to palm a basketball and open even the most stubborn mayo jar.
Seems only fitting that this is how I find them spending quality time on a Sunday afternoon, huh?
|it became a game of how far they could get/how many steps they could take before falling off|
|"On your tip toes, Koa" - Ikaika offering some direction|