I hadn’t been home from school in a couple months, leading to several questions from my family about my ‘secret life’ out east but I assured them grad school wasn’t nearly as exciting as they thought. My dad’s birthday was always a big deal around my house so I was happy to celebrate it with everyone like we always did but after opening gifts and a round of cake everyone seemed to find their own spot to nap, an unspoken Davis family tradition. I woke up and came out of my room about an hour later to see my dad and younger brother were already up, sitting in the living room watching TV but Grandpa Clint was still out cold on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table.

“I guess grandpa partied too hard” I joked while joining Kyle on the other couch. “Part of me looks forward to being in my 60s so I can sleep that good” my little brother, Kyle added with a look over at him. “Grandpa Clint’s been working the farm for a long time; he’s used to sleeping whenever he can” my dad pointed out, sitting next to his dad on the other couch. My dad did have a good point; Grandpa Clint farmed from sun up to sun down most days and I’d helped him during the summers so I knew what he meant about taking advantage of a moment to catch up on sleep. “Did I ever tell ya’ll how me and Uncle Mitch used to wake Grandpa Clint up when he’d knock out like this?” my dad asked with a mischievous look on his face.

“I don’t think so” Kyle answered, intrigued by the question. “No? Alright…it might not work anymore though, I don’t know” dad explained as Kyle and I watched him carefully get up and take a pen from the counter. I wasn’t totally sure where it was going; my dad wasn’t usually this scheming, but I couldn’t help but feed off his energy as he knelt down in front of the coffee table and brought the tip of the thin pen up to Grandpa Clint’s sleeping bare feet. I felt a smile show up on my face and my brother giggled with suspense as my dad dragged the pen up the left foot, getting a low grumble from Grandpa Clint as his bubbly toes twitched a little.

My dad looked back at us with a playfully nefarious smile as if to make sure we were in on the joke and returned with the pen again, this time going a little faster across the wrinkled sole. “MHmHmHm” he mumbled more this time, sleepily objecting to whatever it was teasing his foot but that just got a bigger reaction from my dad. “Try the other foot!” Kyle suggested and my dad agreed, pressing firmer as he went down the pale arch of the right foot. “ohAohhmMh…quit!” Grandpa Clint let out without opening his eyes and I thought for sure the game was up, covering my mouth to muffle my own laughter but my dad didn’t move, on standby as his dad crossed his feet the opposite way and relaxed into the couch again.

It was obvious my dad had indeed done this plenty of times in the past, knowing just how to tickle him enough to get a reaction but not wake him up all the way. I also realized why he questioned if this would still work; Grandpa Clint might have been ticklish enough for this to be fun years ago but surely not now, not at his age. Turns out dad couldn’t have been more wrong. My dad ditched the pen after that and reached out to lightly flutter along the peach balls of one foot, wiggling in place until he saw his dad grin again under his grey mustache and squirm a little, “EenNOOugH now!” I waited for Grandpa Clint to pop up and bust my dad but no, the barefoot farmer was still out of it, still asleep enough to not realize what was going on.

“Should I go in for the kill?” my dad whispered with another big grin on his face. “Yeah!” Kyle answered and I nodded, curious as to what ‘going in for the kill’ even meant. A wave of mild anxiety hit me as I watched my dad slowly wrap his arm around his dad’s jeaned ankles until they were in a loose headlock, knowing Grandpa Clint wasn’t above messing around but it was always on his terms and he wasn’t ever on the receiving end. “You can’t sleep all day on my birthday!” my dad announced with a purposefully loud voice as he let loose on both sleeping feet. “WhATT?! AHohAAOhANNoOONNoOhAOhaNNOOhAa!! DdAaAmMMiIITTBBbiiIlLLLYY!! SSTToOHOPP!!” Grandpa Clint erupted only a few seconds later with laughter I’d never heard from him as he thrashed around while trying to yank his legs free.

My dad laughed at his lively reaction and kept a firm grip on his ankles, now standing up instead of kneeling for better leverage as he scribbled all over the meaty soles, surprising me at how incredibly ticklish Grandpa Clint actually was. “GGGEETttoOOfFFBBIIILLLY!! AHAHA iIImMEEAAANNIIITTT!!” he tried to warn as he bucked and jerked on the couch, gripping the arm and cushions with a reluctant smile. He was fighting it hard, trying and failing to contain his reaction and force my dad off him as Kyle and I watched from the sidelines. “Come on, Kyle! Get in here!” my dad announced. “NnoOOOokKYYYLLEE!! IIMMSSEErRrRIIOouUuSSS!!” Kyle paused, unsure who to listen to as he got up from his seat. “Come on – grab the massager!” my dad instructed, referring to the hand-held back massager he’d received earlier that day and had been testing out.

“SSTTOOopPPpIIITTTNNoOOoWW!! EEenNNoOOuUGGHh!!” Grandpa Clint protested, trying to assert some authority but my dad won out and Kyle fired up the massager, bringing it to the smooth feet while dad held his legs. “KKYylLlEEDDoONnNTTOAOHAoaOAAOHA!!! NNAoOAOH! AOhaNnOOnNOOO!!” my grandpa’s laughter jumped into goofy, higher-pitched squeals I could tell he hated letting out. He slapped the cushions of the couch and his head flew around back and forth as the vibrating, rotating end of the massager dominated his mature soles as if it was meant for tickling. “Oh man, this was a good gift!” my dad pointed out while Kyle moved the massager up and down both feet, riding the same tickler’s high dad was.

“AHoAAOOKoOkAohAOHASSTTOoHOOPP!! SSTTOHAOHAPPP!! BBIILLlYYCccOOMmEEoONN!!” he tried to convince as his wiggling feet endured the maddening gadget. “Stop what?” “AhoAHaaDDAAmMIIITTBBIIiLlLyY IIiMmMEAAnNIIITT!!” “Say please!” my dad instructed, showing a hint of a devious side that rarely came out. “AAHoahaHAohA PPLlLeEEAASSEE!!” Grandpa Clint forced out like he’d kill my dad if he didn’t soon end it. “Please, son, stop tickling my feet” my dad tacked on, getting an impressed laugh out of Kyle who was still running the massager up and down the blue-collar feet. “AAHohaIIiMMGGoOOnNNAAA KKiIiCCKKYYoOUUuRRAASSS!!!” My dad just laughed at his threat and got Kyle to turn the massager up, easily driving Grandpa Clint into wilder hysterics that I wouldn’t have believed if I didn’t see it for myself.

“AhAOOkOoHAOHOOKK! PplEAASSEEeSSSOOnNn SSTTTooOPPPTTiIiCCkKLIIINNGGMmYYFFEEETT!! NNOOoWWSSTTAOhOOPP!!” he gave in like he knew he didn’t have another way out. I knew that was the only reason he’d ever actually say all that. “Well this is turning out to be the best birthday in a while” my dad added as he let the legs go and Kyle turned off the massager. “…just because it’s your birthday, doesn’t mean I can’t take you down a peg or two” Grandpa Clint assured as he regained his composure, trying to save face.

“Come on, dad, we were just messing around. I had to show the boys” my dad explained with a lingering smirk. “Sorry, grandpa, I couldn’t resist” Kyle added. “I was just a bystander” I pointed out. “Yeah well your dad’s just as bad off as me, don’t let him fool you” “Really?” Kyle asked with sudden interest. “You come for me and yours will be twice as bad, I promise” dad assured as he sipped his coffee and Uncle Mitch walked in from the guest room. “I didn’t mean to sleep so long, what’d I miss?” We all looked at Grandpa Clint, ready to tell what’d happened but he beat us to it, “You didn’t miss nothing, not a damn thing.”