3/25 #SOL18 Unspoken Game

There is this unspoken game we play in our house. It is typically played one to three times a day. There is no official name. We have never spoken of the rules. But it is fiercely played, mostly between me and my husband. I am sure many of you play this game or have played this game before. 

Here's how it typically goes:

Our family is relaxing watching TV on a glorious weekend morning. Coffee is brewing in the kitchen, the sun is peering through the trees creating beautiful patterns on the hard word floor, and the TV provides a quiet murmur as background noise as we all try our best to wake up. 

We have all been woken up too early by an adorable yet highly touchy 16 month old that has not mastered the art of sleeping in. This tiny human plays an integral role in this unspoken game.  

As my husband, two daughters, and I sit on the couch in a daze, the toddler is buzzing around the room in tornado fashion. He's taking any item he can out of the playroom and sprawling it across the floor, tries climbing on the furniture, forcefully attempts to insert fake food/cars into my mouth, grabs his sisters slippers, and just all around creates a ruckus. 

Then suddenly he leaves for the playroom and stays there for several minutes. We all breathe a sigh of relief as he has finally settled down. But just as soon as we let the moment sink in, he's back in the family room. 

And the game begins.

The toddler breezes by my husband, stopping to examine some small particle of fuzz/string/non-choking hazard item on the rug. My husband quickly mumbles something about needing to go sand something in the garage and begins to head out of the room. 
At that moment, having played this game many times before, I know what he's up to and I quickly make my next move. "Honey, don't worry about that now, I will take the kids out to the park later and give you time to work on sanding all by yourself. Please, sit back down and relax!" Well played, I think to myself.

The toddler then moves my way and my suspicions are confirmed...stinky pants. The dude needs to be changed, and all signs point to a major job. 

Acting casual, I plan my escape, "I need to get more coffee. I'll be right back."

Noticing my strategy, my husband quickly makes his next move, "I'll get it for you. You stay right where you are."

Foiled.

My mind is racing trying to come up with my next strategy. I have to do something to get out of changing the major load. But before I can come up with something, my four year old yells, "Max stinks! He needs a diaper change!". 

My husband and I have both been put on the spot. The toddler looks up at us then heads off to the playroom. But on his way he topples over and falls right on his rear. We look at each other with knowing looks. Whoever gets this one will have a major job to do. 

"Do you want to tag team this one?", asks my husband, hoping for a truce.

"Sure," I reply begrudgingly.

And so this round of our unspoken game is over, but more rounds will be played throughout the day. Maybe we should come up with a better plan for those diaper bombs but it feels oh so good when you win! 



Comments

  1. I love how you created this slice with your mix of dialogue and internal thinking. Those days are long gone by around here, but I remember them well. Our favorite line was, "You touched her last!" lol

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  2. OMG! I am laughing out loud! I literally read this out loud to my husband. I paused here- Then suddenly he leaves for the playroom and stays there for several minutes. for my hubby to predict the outcome. FAIL! I guess I was the only one playing! OOPS!

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  3. The way you told your slice through the lens of a game made this everyday occurance funny. It was humorous the way you had your "well played" turn and how your husband made his next move to foil you. It worked so well.

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  4. Hahaha! This was so funny. I could have been written for a sitcom. It was big of both of you to give up and tag team. In the end, you have a great post for the toddler's future wife to read.

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  5. Perfect descriptions! I can picture this scene and even smell the load. And, of course we've played that game. :) Thanks for sharing.

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  6. Yuck! I adopted my boys when they were 7 and 9 so I missed this part of parenting! You captured it perfectly!

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