But I won.

Dear Zac,

You have made a big impact on me.

And by impact, I mean the 1-inch gash I now have on the top of my head.

Everytime the shower water hits my head, my screams of agony will remind me of you. And should I ever succumb to Male Pattern Baldness, I will get to share the story of the time we raced to get dressed.



Last night, Mommy - in her quick-thinking wit - announced a last-minute race to see who could get dressed in lawn clothes faster.

Suspicious that she might be assisting you (What do you mean you can't unbutton your shirt by yourself? Cheater...), I was determined to prevail and enjoy all benefits and praise that may or may not come with the title of The Fastest Dresser.

I remember it like it was yesterday.



Anyways, in what seemed to be slow motion, my clothes were strewn around the room and I knew I was winning with mere seconds to spare.

I pulled my 2nd shoe on and began to leap across the hall to your room.

Unfortunately, my cougar-like legs could not contain the power within, and my leap was a little higher than I anticipated.

And, midair - as I was screaming I WON! my head slammed into the top of the door frame to your room.



When I came to, I was in the fetal position with my head in Mommy's lap. Sure that my neck had snapped, I was ready to bequeath my belongings and take my last breath. But Mommy assured me with a smile, I was, in fact, alive. (wait... was she laughing at me?)

You, non-reactive and carelessly stepping over my body in your doorway, were ready to head outside. And, oh yeah, you want to be pushed on your swing.

With a new cracked doorframe, a raging headache, and a less-than-sympathetic wife, I followed you outside to play.

But I won.