Want to play a game?

Want to play a game?

Who can resist such an invitation at 6:30 in the morning before tea or coffee? From a five-year-old. That’s how, since getting my eyes fixed, my morning starts. Jack comes over with a floor puzzle, Sneaky, Snaky Squirrel, Pass the Banana, or Animal Wildlife Pawprints match game and I am obliged to play.

Sometimes my eyes are still glued shut, my mouth is dry and I need my tea, or I’m in a hurry for the bathroom—no matter! He wants to play! And he’s got a GREAT game!

Okay, go get it.

It’s right here! Under my arm! he might say with his underwear or shirt on backwards. No biggie!

And I think, it won’t always be like this. The late summer day, the bright and shiny blonde head, the childish wonder and delight, the rush of words and loose body (his, not mine)—and I know the only answer is: Yes.

As I get down on the hard floor and tuck my legs under me for a few (hundred) rounds of Kid Bingo.