We invented ruffling. Well, my Dad did. You haven’t heard of it? You will. It is only a matter of time. Have you ever seen puppies bounding around, knocking each other over, and biting at ears and paws? It’s like that, but for humans. The etymology of the word “ruffling” is a clever amalgamation of the phrase “rough housing” with the word “wrestling.” It’s a unique brand of horseplay, which includes tackling, jumping, climbing, and tickling. Growing up I can remember ruffling with Dad and honing my escape skills to the point where I had a near Navy Seal-like efficiency. He would pin me down in a classic MMA ground and pound position, and as a 6 year old I could always pull my legs in, push them against his chest, and kick out. Inevitably it sent him flying across the room. I’ve always had incredibly strong thighs. I think it’s from soccer.
Despite my power, I was never quite able to gain the upper hand. However, as I grew older, reinforcements arrived. Once there were 3 of us, the brothers could occasionally get some solid tickling in on the old man. I would pin one arm, Clay would pin the other, and the little guy, Grant, would go in for the underarm tickle. Due to some biochemical response that I don’t understand to this day, Dad would be granted unparalleled, mutant strength as soon as we started tickling him. His arms would individually lift us into the air, deposit us on the ground, and the next thing we knew we were being tickled to the point of urinary weakness. Man, what great fun.
As adults, we’ve carried on the tradition. With the late addition of Mark in the rule 5 draft, there were 4 of us. Now we could get Dad back for all those years of torture. We found that a man in his 50s and 60s has a more difficult time fending off his 4 sons than he used to. Whenever we got together for Christmas we’d find an opportunity to get on the floor and establish our dominance. We’d pin him down and tickle him until he went 20 seconds without taking a breath. Sometimes Grant would push it to 25 seconds if Mom was egging us on. One year we conspired to tell him to count to 3 and then gang tackle him. For some reason, he counted to 3 without question. The resulting dog pile was epic. The problem with that is you can only do it once. He quickly got wise to our schemes. He bought an incredibly expensive pair of glasses, and would always wear them when we had family get togethers. We thought it odd, until we moved in for the take down and he starts yelling, “$400 glasses! $400 glasses!” That alerted Mom, and she quickly swept in and put a stop to it. We eventually learned to deftly remove the glasses, which wasn’t easy because he liked those ones that wrap around the ear, and then spin him to the floor before he could react. Not long after that though, he had shoulder surgery. Now his cry was, “$20,000 shoulder! $20,000 shoulder!” That put a damper on things, for sure. It didn’t stop him from ruffling with the grand kids though. As you can see from this video, he was always willing to ruffle, and ruffling is a lot of work.
We’ve also carried the tradition on with our children. They are well versed in the art of ruffling. Every generation of Stevenson kids will experience the thrill of fighting for their lives against incredible odds, and oftentimes succeeding. I remember ruffling with Jaron when he was a little tyke. It turns out that powerful thighs run in the family, and he was always able to launch me into the Lovesac if things got too dangerous for him. When he was in first grade there was a bigger kid who was kind of a bully at his school. Jaron was telling me about him, and I immediately turned on my tough Dad persona, “Jaron, you tell that kid that if he messes with you, you’re going to tell your Dad. I’ll take care of him.” Jaron looked a little concerned so I reassured him, “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt him.”
“No Dad,” he said, “This kid is in 2nd grade. He’s big.”
I smiled, “I’m pretty sure I can take him, Jaron.”
He looked at me and his little brow furrowed, “Dad, he’s bigger than me, and you can’t even beat me up.”
Isn’t the imagination of childhood wonderful? He had me there. Good point young sir.