Daddy came home, washed up, and soon we were all gathered around the table and said grace. While I served dinner, I noted that the boys seemed extra energetic that evening, which is not unusual, but their continued action of boxing each other with their elbows began to grow old. They chuckled gleefully at their own private joke and finally I asked, “What are you doing?”
“Chicken Boxing!” they replied as they laughed and swatted each other again, with elbows bent and arms back over their shoulders.
Daddy decided enough was enough and thought his two oldest needed to get some much excited energy out before they continued on with their meal. “Okay, boys,” he said, looking very serious. “Why don’t you go Chicken Box in your room and when you are done, you can come back and finish your supper.”
The boys went giggling down the hall to their room, and while we continued our meal in peace, we could hear laughter erupting from the boys’ room as they battled it out with their elbows. A little while later they returned with heated faces and sweat drops covering their foreheads.
“How did it go?” I asked at they sat back down and resumed eating.
“I won!” the eldest proudly announced. Somehow this did not come as a surprise. He was a tough one to beat, though the younger one never seemed to let this fact bother him.
Intrigued with the whole Chicken Boxing matter, I asked them to demonstrate this new sport once supper was over and dishes were cleaned.
Observing the two boys box, I realized we were on the verge of creating a major new sport! So what exactly are the rules of Chicken Boxing? It's really quite simple: first, you stand at opposite sides of the room, bending your arms at the elbows, hands on your shoulders, creating a wing-like stance. Secondly, you run at your opponent ‘flapping your wings’ and shouting ‘Bawk! Bawk! Bawk!” as you try to knock each other down with just your elbows. The champion is the one who is left standing and still shouting, “Bawk! Bawk! Bawk!”
Again, my oldest won the battle as I stared in amusement as my other son lay on the floor, laughing and panting in exhaustion. It dawned on me that the key in winning was not actually knocking the other one down with physical force from the elbows, but getting the other one to laugh and fall in complete surrender. This was my kind of game; one that was fun to watch, made you laugh, and brought the family together. Who cares if we don’t become a major sport or make it to the finals? Let it be known for the true facet that it is – a way to let off steam, heal up misunderstandings, and cure any trouble that may be brewing between loved ones. Get out your ‘wings’ people, because Chicken Boxing is the latest cure-all in our time! In the end, you will be laughing so hard all your bickering will be turned into ‘bawking’ in no time. Tying heart-strings is really what matters the most.