The little spit!

Isn't there a term that goes something about spitting in your eye? I don't know...maybe I'm way off. Anyway, tonight after dinner, we were all caught up in one of Lucas's wrestle/tackle/romp/tickle/whatever else attacks that he tends to get into after dinner. This, by the way is a favorite game for the kids. Mommy - that would be me - is not such a fan. But I'm still forced to endure, because, for unknown reasons, I willfully chose to marry the man. And he's bigger than me, so I generally can do nothing about it and am forced to participate. Well, the boys had gone running crazy out of the kitchen to avoid an attack from Daddy. With no other targets available, he tackles me to the ground and pins my arms. Just at this time, along comes Meagan, who jumps on us and starts play hitting Lucas to make him let go of me. I got my arms free and grabbed her. I held her up above my head (mind you I'm still on my back in the middle of the floor). She laughs and giggles and yells (with glee, I thought), 'Mommy Mommy!' Then, without warning, she SPITS in my eye. Well, my reaction was to put her down and wipe my eye. She runs off full speed, laughing at the top of her lungs...she has now found a new and improved way to get free from the tickling game. Great. We have a spitter!