Tug-of-War

He was roped in. Literally.

I don't think I realised how game he can be. He came home with burns from that rope and a chest he later struggled to get to sleep on.

"I'm in team 3", he announced. All that was left was to wait to be called.

We stood along the line, his boys and I, roaring our encouragement.

On one end of the rope, a raggle-taggle assortment of dads; all shapes and sizes; all plucky and determined; all being cheered on by their proud families.

On the other end?

Firemen.

Seldom have I been so conflicted.