Fist Fighting, available at:

Fist Fighting

Middle Years

Fist Fighting

Fist Fighting

Joe leaped over the couch with his fist clenched in front of him.

I’ll never forget the look on my Dad’s face the first time he saw my husband, Joe, raise his fist at me. We were both exhausted after a grueling 15-hour road trip.  Joe was sprawled on their couch and I was sitting at the table. I was telling my folks about the trip, when I remembered the pictures we had brought.

“Joe, could you go out to the car and get my suitcase please? I’m comfortable,” I whined.

“Not now, I’ll get it later when I unload the car,” Joe replied.

“I want to show my parents the pictures now!”

Joe leaped over the couch with his fist clenched in front of him. I stood to meet him. We faced each other, fists held high. My folks watched, stunned, as we pumped our fists and chanted “ONE, TWO, THREE.” We both looked down. Joe’s fist was scissors, and mine was paper. He won the first round. The game was the best of three. I had to be careful. Again we raised our fists and chanted “ONE, TWO THREE. “He was rock and I was paper. The game was tied. Joe turned to my folks with a big grin and said, “Watch this. I always win the critical ones.”

Again we faced off and chanted. We were both paper. After several ties, I lost and had to get the pictures out of the car. Joe laughed, put his feet up on my chair and said to my folks, “See, I told you I always win the critical ones.”

When I came back from the car, my Dad was waiting for me in the foyer. “I thought he was going to hit you,” he said quietly. I hugged him and started to explain. Before I could say anything, Joe hollered from the other room. “As long as you’re up already, could you get me a soda? I’m comfortable.”

I felt my dad’s stomach jerk as he tried not to laugh.

“Joe would never hit me.” I said as I handed him the pictures. I reached for a soda and said, “Although if he keeps on gloating, he may wear this. “We both laughed and went in the other room to show my mom the pictures.

Rock, Paper and Scissors is a child’s game we have found useful to handle everything from who has to get up to turn off the outside light to who dishes out the ice cream for a midnight snack. It turns potential arguments into fun. Instead of arguing over who has to get up and shut the garage door, turn off the bathroom fan or other silly but seemly important issues, we turn it into a game. After 18 years of marriage, we still enjoy watching the startled faces around us when we stop raising our voices and raise our fists instead.

Rock, Paper and Scissors: How to Play

Two players pump their closed fists and chant “ONE, TWO, THREE.” On THREE each player extends a hand in one of three positions. A closed fist is rock. An open hand is paper and a closed fist with the index and pointer fingers extended is scissors. Rock beats scissors because the rock breaks them. Paper beats rock because the paper covers it, and scissors beats paper because the scissors cut it.

More For Your Marriage

Throughout, links to other websites are provided solely for the user’s convenience.
USCCB assumes no responsibility for these websites, their content, or their sponsoring organizations.

Copyright © 2017, United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. All rights reserved.
3211 4th Street, N.E., Washington DC 20017-1194, (202) 541-3000 © USCCB.

Fist Fighting, available at: