On being game

February 8, 2015 by Oddment 2 Comments

One morning when I was a carpooling young mom, I had a carful of well-breakfasted grade-schoolers who had just invented the game “Guess My Favorite Number!” The numbers they guessed were hybrids of decimals and fractions and kazillionbajillions. Each was answered with NOOOOOO! and increased hilarity. It was the longest ride of my life.

I thought that was the dumbest game ever.

Wrong.

Last week my grandchildren taught me “What’s in your milk?” Answer at your peril. Whatever your answer must be the answer to all ensuing questions until you are forced to laugh and thus lose. Oh, no, says I: you lose when you agree to play. Consider:

“What’s in your milk?”
“Old boots.”
“What’s on your head?”
“Old boots.”
“What’s in your sandwich?”
“Old boots.”
“What’s your dad’s name?”
“Old boots.”

Are you ready yet to run screaming from the room? Well, what if you’re driving? Yes, once again trapped in the car with sparring young wits. I actually participated until, in self-defense and in deference to other drivers, I resigned with loud opinions.

From the back seat, they sensed Grandma’s wild eyes, and changed the game to “Ask any question.”

When it was my turn, I asked “What do you think life was like when I was growing up?” (Will I never learn?) The answers were instantaneous: “Boring!” “Dull!”

Talk about a game-changer. Suddenly I was on the defensive. Fortunately for them, I couldn’t stop to bellow about how exciting it was when we read about that first wheel on the daily stone tablet.

So now new game questions: was there multicellular life before the Internet? Am I proof that there was or that there wasn’t?

Do I want to hear their answers?