This is not the first time the two of you have squared-off in this event, and previous matches have left the both of you with scars both mental and physical.
"All right then, little Milton," you sneer. "If you're ready for your lesson, you just go ahead and get in the start position."
Milton walks to the center of the backyard, crouches down with his knees bent and his hands resting on the ground.
You walk up behind him and assume the same position, but with your hands resting together on his back.
You ready yourself to start, concentrating hard on what you are about to do, not letting any outside distractions throw you off, knowing that your pride is at stake. Milton has only been playing leapfrog for about a year now, but in that time he has learned much, and shows tremendous potential. He is quick; he is accurate; and he almost never blows a dismount.
You are now ready. Your weight goes down on your legs, in preperation to spring forward, vaulting your body over Milton's. It's now or never...
But just as you are about to leap, a voice shouts out from over in Poppy's garden.
"No! No you boys don't! Not that godawful game!"
It's your sister Paula.
"I've seen way too many people get hurt playing leapfrog. And Bradford, here you are playing against little Milton. What kind of role model are you? Where's your protective gear? You boys play much too rough. It's a bad, bad game, and I won't have you playing it in Poppy's backyard. Why can't you guys just play football or wrestle like other boys?"
"You don't understand leapfrog, Paula," you tell her. "You never will."
"Look, Brad, what I understand is that my cousin Ernie was in the hospital for a month with a concussion after a leapfrog game, and he still can't speak right. Damn sport should be out-lawed."
"All right, all
right," you say to Paula, mostly just to shut up. "Milty, you...
you go home now, cause...