LeighMo's bit of heaven (or hell)

I have been in training to join the pro wrestling circuit. So far, I can put a human being that weighs 2/3 of my own weight into a headlock, pin his arm behind his back, and avert an attempt to toss me across the room (that one is tricky, for if I do not see it coming I go a-flying). For tonight's practice, I took him into the drugstore and did not haul his eighty pound ass into a cart; I was promptly rewarded (punished?) with the 'running bull' move, followed by the 'flop like a dead fish' maneuver. Needless to say, a two minute trip to pick up more reading glasses turned into a half an hour's worth of drag, haul, and silently plead with the Gods to make Jamie cooperate for five minutes, before I started screaming at the people gaping at us.

The older Jamie gets, the more weight he gains. Which means the stronger he gets. And since I have plateaued in terms of weight gain (I'm healthy! yay), I fear before his thirteenth birthday he will outweigh, out height, and out stamina me. Of course, these tests of wills could be completely avoided if I would just give him what he wants, every time, the second he wants it. Alas, I am determined to raise him as I raise the other two, for I am nothing if not fair.

This is merely venting. I do not have it bad, and I know this. Things could be much, much worse, and I am eternally grateful for how smart and loving and funny and capable he is. I just fear that a day will come when I can't hold my own against him.