When our daughter Lauren was little, my great friend David devised a challenging “test” for Lauren and his son Dave. It was called the “Tickle Tolerance Test.”

The object was for the little one to lay on the ground face up. While far above, a father’s wiggling finger would begin its descent. Right towards Lauren or Dave’s tummy. Now the finger never touched Lauren or Dave. It would just descend. Slowly. Wigglingly. The wiggling finger rarely got within a foot or two before the giggling and squeals of laughter began. If anyone could stifle their laughter until the wiggling finger got within an inch or two of the tummy, the little one would get a treat. But no one survived – or passed – the Tickle Tolerance Test.

I have begun the Tickle Tolerance Test with Eve.  And – as expected – the laughter begins when my wiggling finger is far over my head.  Beginning its descent.  Heck – I’m not sure I could pass the Tickle Tolerance Test. . . . .

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