Sunday in the Fall
playing
Down at the Swings Again
Sunday at the Park and on the Trampoline
Down at the Trampoline
Together
It used to happen more often: the kids and I would play something together and for a while, everything else disappeared. It's been a long time since that's happened. This afternoon, we had a little reminder of what that was like.
As the Girl gets older, she's less and less interested in the things the Boy loves. He can't handle the ever-decreasing attention and resorts to the old tried-and-true method of getting attention: he pesters her.
"That just makes her want to spend even less time with you, buddy," I've explained more times than I can recall.
"Okay," he grudgingly admits. And then heads off to pester her again.
Today, though, we went down to the trampoline/swing/hammock area and managed to play like we were all five years old again. There was laugher. There was silliness.
And then we came up to get dinner ready, and it all disappeared.
"E!" cried L, stretching his name into a three-second yell. "Leave me alone!" He was at it again.
Tuesday Playing
K and the Boy spent some time rolling around the neighborhood this evening after dinner. One of the countless things I love about K is her own love of childhood joys.
She was on E's scooter, having the time of her life it appeared.
Afterward, we played a bit of soccer.
The Girl was at volleyball practice, so we had to do something to entertain ourselves.
And of course, we had to have a little down time once it was all said and done.
Rainy Monday
Family Sports
"Can we play some family sports tonight?" the Boy asked during dinner. He's always interested in doing something as a family: a family bike ride, a family film, a game of family soccer. But our busy lives (busy even in this time of pandemic) being what they are, it's rare that we get to play together. Tonight, for example, K had to write an offer on a house for one of her clients, and that takes a fair amount of time. So I went out with the kids and the dog and played some soccer and volleyball with them.
Tonight, the Boy learned a lesson during the game. He'd been bragging to L, insisting that he was a much better soccer player than she. Had the Boy developed fully the critical thinking skills a thirteen-year-old has, he would have looked at relative size, relative experience, and relative speed and thought, "It's unlikely I'm much better than she."
Then again, I've had plenty of thirteen-year-olds challenge me to chess, swear their going to beat me badly, and then ask as soon as the board is set up, "So, how do you play?" that a thirteen-year-old's critical thinking skills can be less than ideal.
So they played. E lost. E fussed. I encouraged. And in the end, instead of giving up, he kept trying, kept attacking, and made some really good plays in the end.
More Hearts
Papa won, hence the "heart attack."
Hearts
K and I played a three-handed game of hearts with the Girl tonight. We wanted to watch a movie, but L was not in the mood. "She'll play a card game," I thought, and bounded up to her room to suggest it.
I like throwing down the queen of spades on unsuspecting players, and I usually keep her in my hand. L did poorly on the first hand, and so for the second hand, I wanted to make sure she didn't get the queen. I almost ended up with it myself as a result.
But I did manage to do something that has crossed my mind a few times, but I never did: announce to everyone I had the queen. I began the hand with 7 spades; K gave me the ace, king, and queen of spades. But I had not a single diamond. At one point, I even lead with spades to get the hand to someone else, waiting for the first person to lead with diamonds. It was K. I laid it on her.
In the end, I gave her the queen probably four or five times. When we finished, she said, "Well, pack up your stuff to sleep on the couch."
L thought it was uproariously amusing. And I think that was what it was all about. Next time, I'll have to fall on the sword a number of times -- it should amuse L even more, and K, too.