The Karate Kid

I recently had cause to visit a former work colleague with whom I had numerous, unresolved differences. It was not long before I was introduced to the fruit of his loins, a hyperactive young lad of about 8, who bounced into the lounge resplendent in what I imagined to be his karate kit. We were introduced and I was informed that the child had just returned from this evening’s class at the local sports centre. Encouraged by his proud father he was requested to demonstrate some of the techniques he had learned, at which point he started to throw 'haymakers' in the direction of the aforementioned loins. His mother kindly corrected him, suggesting that he should in fact be aiming rapier-like thrusts at his intended target. With the obedience becoming a drill sargeant he continued to pummel his father's nether region accompanied by the obligatory high pitched squawks (or was that coming from his father). Not being a particularly child-friendly person I have to admit that I was quickly warming to this child’s charms, smiling enthusiastically as each punch landed. It was a most impressive display that I insisted he repeat several times, so that I might gain greater insight into the demands of the sport. Not wishing to displease his son dad was forced to stand his ground wincing through gritted teeth.

My colleague and I did not resolve our differences though I did come away that evening having learned 3 valuable lessons: - one – Pride comes before a fall, two - there is a God and three – never let your child take karate lessons until they are at least 4 foot tall.