TGI Monday

I. Games
Giving J a binder full of our old emails was a bit of a risky move. She pointed out as she was reading through some of them how I mentioned "I couldn't wait to play Phase 10" or was "looking forward to playing games this weekend."
Then she'll look at me with an expression of anger and betrayal and say "That was bold-faced LIE."
Yes it was.
I don't care for playing games.
I only played Phase 10 to get the girl. And it totally worked.
<fist bump to no one in particular>
Only now we've reproduced, and guess what? The oldest offspring has inherited the game-loving gene. And he wants to play them all the time.
This has led to a bit of a crisis for me, because I realize I can't put off Monopoly Junior with him forever.

"Daddy, wanna play Monopoly Junior?"
"I can't right now. First we need to get ready for dinner."
"Can we play Monopoly Junior after you get ready for dinner?"
"Well, once I have dinner ready then we're going to EAT dinner."
"Can we play Monopoly Junior after dinner?"
"Possibly, but after dinner I'm going to need to do the dishes. You could help, you know."
"Can we play Monopoly Junior after you do the dishes?"
"Maybe, but after I do the dishes we're going to need to maybe do something else."
"Hey, I have an idea--how about Monopoly Junior?"
"We'll see."

Most of the time I just hope that he'll find J and they can indulge their weird game-playing obsession just the two of them. But on the other hand, I don't want to be left out.
I poured myself a glass of wine and had a good think about this. (I've been off of work all week, if that isn't evident already.) I decided that anyone who declares about himself: "I don't like to play games" is like someone who says "I don't like to read books." It's a shallow, overhasty, close-minded statement. It reflects poorly on the one who makes the statement and probably indicates that they've judged an entire class of activity which the whole human race finds interesting and enriching based on one or two bad experiences. It's a myopic, provincial attitude.
I decided to play Monopoly Junior with some real effort and enthusiasm.
It drove me nuts. James constantly forgets whose turn it is, he sneezes on everything he touches (to be fair, this isn't the fault of the game or game-playing in general) and he insists on pointless and irrelevant details being arranged just-so every time he plays. (He has to line up his toy cars beside Park Place and Boardwalk, which has to be turned towards him, and they have to hold the decorative playing card that indicates that he is using the Car piece.)

I'm going to try to like games some more, but I may just end up going to back to being close-minded.

II. Sneezes
The kids are getting better, but it's still pretty gross here at the Smith house. Owen's nose is constantly dripping, so about once an hour we have to pin him down (he doesn't like this) and scrub all the dried snivel off of his face. James isn't doing much better about remembering to use a kleenex, but at least he remembers to cover his mouth when he coughs or sneezes. Well, most of the time, anyway. This morning when the boys got up I went and retrieved Owen first. He was pretty happy (despite being completely encrusted in what had been running out of his nose all night) and I carried him in one arm (with him carrying his George and Steven) as we went to get James up. James was awake and waiting for me, and I picked him up in the other arm (with him holding his George and Steven) as we made our way down the stairs. This is pretty much a daily tradition. The boys like to be carried down the stairs at the same time, and I kind of regard it like the story of the young man who put the calf on his shoulders and walked up the hill, growing stronger every day until the calf had grown into an enormous bull. I'm not sure that my back is going to make it to the time when the boys get to be as big as enormous bulls, but I can't carry both of them for now. Unless I guess sick, that is. Because this morning both of them had huge sneezing fits as I was carrying them down the stairs. Both of them were pointing at me. Neither of them covered their mouth. It was...slimy.