The other morning, when I walked into the kitchen to grab some breakfast, I discovered J and the kids lounging on the couch in the den. I walked over to chat and N immediately hopped off the couch and toddled over to me with a (very satisfying) cry of “Daddy!”

He and I played for a few moments, and then it hit me: no one had trained N in the fine art of bopping. Sure, he’d seen it done before – and I think I’d even handed him a pillow once or twice – but this was a clear opportunity for him to discover the true joy of pillow bopping.

Checking to make sure that the others were distracted by the TV, I quietly handed him a couch pillow and whispered “bop!”. He took the pillow (which was roughly half his total height), and then looked at me with a big open-mouthed grin.

I pointed to J and mimed hitting something with a pillow. I even whispered “bop!” at the appropriate point.

He turned and started to toddle towards her, and then turned back to look at me. He was looking strangely serious, though I didn’t recognize the expression at the time. I gestured enthusiastically for him to continue.

It should be noticed at this point that J had realized what was going on. She was gamely playing along, however – pretending to ignore us.

N toddled back towards me, holding his pillow. Not quite getting it, I gestured him in the other direction, continuing to whisper. “No, that way! Bop!” I mimed bopping again. “Bop!”

Bop. The pillow hit me square in the face. It wasn’t moving very fast, but it was clearly a bop.

The student had turned on the teacher.