One of the best things about being a kid was making up games.
You know, the kind of games that you made up the rules as you went along and if you were the one that invented the game you could just stop and make a new rule?
Ever notice how those games were never the sit-down-and-be-quiet-and-don’t-break-anything games?
Nope, they were always the kind of game that were “this close” to breaking a really expensive knick knack on your mom’s shelf that you never ever saw her use.
This game was So. Much. Fun. And most often ended up with someone in tears and running out of the room.
This weekend Sweets made up her first “game”. It’s called “Pump, Kick, Goal!” and includes kicking the ball back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, typically when I am in the kitchen cooking.
That’s right, kicking a ball. In. The. House.
Now you guys are waiting for the description of how I told Sweets she’s not allowed to kick the ball in the house because it’s not safe, right?
Sorry to disappoint. I was ALL. OVER. this game. And if someone other than Sweets was ALLOWED to win, I totally would have won.
Did you all know I played kickball? That’s right. She never had a chance.
The rules were like this:
She would kick the ball at me. I would kick the ball back at her.
But see, she would kick the ball at me and it would roll slowly into the kitchen down the narrow hallway and then I would
and it would go all pinballing around the house narrowly missing the candle on the mantle knocking it down and setting the house on fire.
It was awesome.
Did you know when a big rubber ball hits the ceiling fan it makes a really wonky noise and will ping really fast into the bookshelves, knocking the picture off and almost hit the baby?
Yep. That was a good kick.
Then Sweets started “making rules”.
No goalie. This was interesting because, despite the name of the game, there were no goals to be made and no points or score was kept. It was basically her kicking the ball to me, her “hitting the deck!” when I would bean the ball back her way, and then her laughing hysterically that we almost knocked over the very expensive flat screen TV.
I know, setting a bad example, am I? Well, we calmed things down after that, including a rule of “no laughing” (because “games aren’t funny mommy! This is serious!”) and “no destroying daddy’s expensive toys”. Every once in a while it’s fun to break the rules, within reason, and let the kids get a little wild, in a controlled kind of way.
I managed to make dinner without spilling it all over the floor, breaking any plates and, more importantly, not spilling my wine. THAT would have been a game ender.
Do your kids make up any crazy games?
Have a great crazy day!