Weird games we play

Is this normal? I think it is…but now I wonder… I guess anything is “normal” with a 6-year-old. Or, rather, anything that is actually normal, wouldn’t be normal in our house. Wait, what? I don’t know…

 

“Poses”

This is a game that somehow came to life by itself. I could not even tell you exactly how it started. It involves me standing near the kitchen island and becoming a “door”. I block Jack from getting around the kitchen island, and he has to come up with creative ways to make me move. See, I’m a magic door that moves and sometimes talks. I definitely dance. Or think that I can. Anyway, Jack tries a combination of things such as pushing my hands, stepping on my feet, or poking me in the stomach, and based upon my mood, the “door” does something in response.

For instance: Jack pushes on my left hand and I start to spin around. Then he tries to get by me while I’m spinning and not get caught in the door. Then he runs around the island and starts over. Next he pushes my right hand and I slap him. He pushes it again and I slap him again. (not child abuse slap, just a whap on the cheek). He cracks up every time. It’s his favorite thing. Then he pushes both hands at the same time and I move quickly forward and backward and he has to squeeze by me to gain access to the kitchen.

Sometimes the door chases him and his squeals can be heard around the neighborhood. Sometimes the door traps him and sometimes the door gets dizzy and falls down. Either way, it’s hilarious. I even sometimes get to work on getting dinner ready as I wait for him to run around the counter. It’s a win win! Now, why it’s called “poses” I’ll never know. You’ll have to ask him. I would call it, uh, “door”.

 

“Hot Cross Buns”

Yes, the nursery rhyme, not the food item. We’ve played this since Jack was maybe 2 and memorized the words to the song. I blogged briefly about it in January…see number 9. It’s an annoying song, but catchy. This game involves me singing the lyrics in a very low manly voice, which is not very hard for me to achieve. Ahem. I’m not sure why the voice has to be like that, but it just does! I have to lay on my back with my knees bent and Jack uses my knees and legs as a slide. Sometimes he slides towards my feet and sometimes he lands on my stomach. He will literally play this until my ab muscles give out and I start crying. That’s why now that he’s 6, and a very heavy kid, I keep my cell phone close by. If he ruptures my spleen, I do not want to have to crawl to find my phone.

 

“War”

Not the card game, which I talked about in this post. Actual war. Which means that Jack gets to use his most bad-ass nerf dart guns and I usually get some sort of broken fake toy gun that doesn’t even make noise. I have to continually expose myself to his most awesome shooting skills so that he can peg me with darts. Oh, and I have to pick up the darts and return them to him after they’ve blasted bits of me onto the ground. Not cool! If I try to “gain” one of Jack’s weapons, just so I have a fighting chance, he calls me a cheater and sometimes quits the game. He has to be king, and I guess I better get used to that.

There are a few others that we play, but I’m feeling carpal tunnely so I’m going to stop typing now. Sitting here, eating pita chips and typing is just EXHAUSTING I tell you. I think I’m going to take a nap. 🙂