Skip to main content

Play with me

Have you embarked on playing a game that your kid has made up?  It is an odyssey like no other. They have poured a lot of time into the project. They've put a lot of time into making up the rules and the point of the game.  However, it is not always easy to learn those rules.  I'm not great at remembering or learning rules for games from a package in the first place, but understanding how to win the games they want me to play has challenged me in new ways.

Play school with me. Like this. Exactly in this way.

Which way?

This way.

Oh, okay...

No. Not that way, this way.

It is hard not  to cast doubt or raise obvious questions in a parental killjoy manner.  To extinguish the tiny furtive sparks of excitement is not my idea of fun, but playing games I don't understand makes me feel like I'm being dragged around a mall in too hot clothes at the height of Christmas shopping season-overstimulated and bored at the same time.

Some made up games instantly work, like describing aloud the scariest monster or alien you can think of or Brains (the instructions are a little nuanced, but trust me, it's fun). Those games are easy to understand and very fun to participate in.

Others, well, the convoluted point of the game and instructions are designed in such a way because it sounds good, but would be a real test to actually follow to the letter.  Let's just say they are in development. However, as a parent, I am more than willing to fund the research and development of these potential games with peanut butter sandwiches and heat and supplies.  I 'd rather sit out the market testing portion of the research.

How about you? What made up games have worked?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Small Craft

I accompanied my mother-in-law to an appointment this week. On the paper, preparing her for the appointment, it invited her bring along something to read or a small craft. As soon as I heard about this invitation to bring a small craft into an otherwise austere waiting area, my mind started to do bouncing somersaults in many different directions. Googly eyes? Glue gun? Feathers? Play clay? Friendship braclets?

The words coming out of my mouth

  These days I wear a mask. I don't wear a mask all of the time, only when I am indoors or unavoidably up close with people who I don't usually interact with.  I wear one when I am ordering things, or buying things or attempting to enjoy some form of public entertainment.  I cannot rely on reading others lips. My lips are hidden. We ask each other to repeat.  We move our eyes or our whole heads to try and enunciate more clearly.  I say fewer words, more carefully chosen words behind the mask. Sometimes that is helpful, sometimes that just causes more confusion. I walked into the woods. I did not need a mask.  I only saw a few other people and they were distanced. Masks were unnecessary. After so much talking and not talking and avoiding talking out loud I am forced to examine when I speak and when I choose not to. This is not a bad thing since I can be an insufferable chatter box, just a new thing for my brain to adjust itself to. When I am not standing aro...

Bringing her back

 As the first anniversary finally passed, I exhaled.  The sadness still nibbled away at the edges, but not clawing deep into my chest like it had been with varying degrees of ferocity in the twelve months previously.  She died in early summer, so I plunged into ocean and lakes and ate fruit straight from the plant.  The grief became softer, the folk songs carried me along in the potato patch we planted in therapy. But then, I started to miss her.  The deep grief kept her so close and now as the pressure eased, so did her presence.  I held my breath and decided to be really sad this morning just to see her face.  To sit in her prescence.  My breath became jagged as I cried for her, for us.   This Taylor Swift cover  by Marc Maron broke me right open this morning.  Here's to staying broken open enough to keep your loved ones close. And then, I walked into her garden. The garden she envisionied, planted over and over and still pre...