Right after my divorce from Michelle, I met Jack Mason at a child's birthday party. The bash was hosted at one of those video game pizza joints. As I kept my eyes peeled on my son, I caught a middle-aged man approaching me. He extended his hand. I shook it.

"How'd you get roped into this shindig?" he asked.

"It was my weekend."

He nodded. "I'm here as part of a punishment from my wife."

I must have looked interested because he went on. It didn't take long to discover that the man was a true storyteller. I knew right away that we'd become good friends.

It was a tough time in my life back then, having lost my marriage and trying to become adjusted to being the "Weekend Dad." Jack and I got close. His only piece of formal advice was: "You gotta keep laughing. It's the only medicine that heals everything!"

Before long, he invited me to his home to spend a few days. With nowhere else to go, I accepted. It was then that I met his youngest boy, Reggie.

He was fearless in every sense of the word and he loved to throw hands. Standing three feet even, he wore a flat top that gave him the look of an old wrestler. I rolled around with him until I realized that his grunts and squeals were proof that he wanted nothing more than to hurt me. He punched. He kicked. When he got close enough, he even bit. I screamed out and his Dad took notice. "Knock off the biting, Reggie," Jack barked, but he was grinning proudly. If I were the boy, I wouldn't have listened either. Reggie bared his teeth and came back at me for another taste.

I playfully slapped his face. He kept coming. I cautiously swept his feet. He kept coming. I got tired and he smiled. He wasn't nearly done with me. Alas, I chose the role of the adult and stood, looming three feet over him. "OK, Buddy," I panted. "That's enough for now."

"No," he screamed. "I fight you more."

I shook my head and wrinkled my brow in an attempt at authority. "NO MORE!"

He grinned an eerie grin and shrugged. "OK, then I fight you when you're sleeping." He whispered each word in an almost guttural Bavarian accent, and then smiled. His eyes lit up and there was no doubt he was picturing every punch he'd throw at my closed eyes; every bite he'd take into my relaxed flesh. I shuddered. I never imagined what it would feel like to be intimidated by a four-year-old who had every intention of carrying his orders through. I'd never imagined being concerned for my safety while the rest of the world lay in tranquil slumber.

While Reggie got ready for bed, Jack's wife Karen set me up nicely on the couch. With a toothbrush still in his mouth, Jack teased, "Usually, I hear Reggie when he gets up." He winked. "I'll stop him before he gets to you." There was humor in his words, though I felt anything but laughter. The kid amused Jack to the point that his chest swelled with pride. Jack wasn't about to stop anyone from anything. He'd be out for the night. It was just the boy and me.

Reggie peeked out of the bathroom and smiled. I thought about spiking him with cough syrup, but there was no way I would have been able to get him alone.

All lights were shut off.

"Goodnight Frankenstein," Reggie's tiny voice called from the bedroom.

"Goodnight, Reggie," I replied in the darkness and could swear that I heard his father chuckling. I pulled the blanket up under my chin and turned in for the night, with one eye open.

I awoke in the morning exhausted from a poor night's sleep. Through all my tossing and turning, Reggie never came near me. The family dog, however, wouldn't leave me alone. I'd gotten up once in the middle of the night for a bathroom break and a sip of water. McGruff, a black Labrador retriever, was waiting in ambush for me back in the living room. It took a few horrible minutes for me to shake him free from my leg.

Over breakfast, I told Jack about my late night adventures.

He laughed. "He must really like you. I've never seen McGruff get attached to anyone that fast."

The dog panted at my feet, while Reggie sat across the table, grinning at me like he knew something I didn't.

Jack broke my petrified trance. "If it happens again tonight, I'll take him outside." With that, he burst into laughter. McGruff, on the other hand, moved in closer to my leg. I tried to shoo the dog away. He wouldn't budge. When I looked up, I found Reggie still gawking. "I fight you when you're sleeping," he mouthed under his breath, and suddenly, I got a sick feeling in my gut.

Right then, I realized that Jack self-medicated on all the laughter he could find. I hid my concerns and laughed right alongside him. And why not? There was no way in the world I was staying at the Mason's for another night.