Punch Buggy.

These feet belong to my youngest. 
He took the picture on my phone, right before he punched his brother. 
He wasn't mad.  It was just game on.  

Punch Buggy- that is.

Normally I discourage my boys from punching each other but there is a twisted excitement that makes it okay when accompanied with the required punch buggy announcement.  

And, no thanks to Teri, my baby is obsessed with punch buggy.  He can spot them a mile away and has socked his brother before Elijah knows what has hit him. 

It's contagious.

It's Tuesday.  Date night. 

And what did we do.  We threw punches. Yep.

Rex and I found ourselves caught up in the game. 

I called the red punch buggy- he didn't call the silver one but punched anyway.  Cheater, cheater.

It's pretty good for release of aggression- just be sure you actually see the beetle before throwing the punch.

Happy Tuesday y'all!