Once a week, I crush my 13-year-old at tennis until she cries.

I feel I only have a one or two year window to do this. Then she will conquer and destroy and laugh at me. So give me my chance. Sometimes I hit the ball as hard as possible so she can’t run fast enough with her tiny legs. Other times I aim straight at her so the ball either hits her (“ow!”) or she has to jump out of the way. Sometimes she yells. “I hate tennis!” and then she starts to cry.

I don’t know why, but when we get to that point I feel happy. Because then I can comfort her.