Games. Games. And More Games.

We’re gamers. When we don’t have a new game to play, Piper and Sissy invent their own. Piper’s latest dinner time game is called “tell your story.” Here’s how it goes:

Pipe throws out a question like “Who has seen a giraffe?”

We all raise our hands like eager school children. Piper selects one of us.

“Okay. Tell your story.”

She’s a complete dictator of the game. If your giraffe story isn’t interesting, she cuts you off mid-sentence and starts another round. “Enough. Who has been to New York City?”

This afternoon we found a new game. Sissy invented it for us.

The game came complete with a folder and accessories for play.

There were rules, of course. Sissy likes rules.

Piper spent the day nursing a nasty cold, so the game was a welcome distraction.  She immediately dug into the notebook so I could dictate her first message.

Dear Sissy,

You’re a good sissy. I’m glad you’re my sissy. I like how you draw houses. I love the bracelet you made me. When I get older, will you take care of me?

Love, Piper

Then we tucked the note into the supplied plastic tube and hid it in Sissy’s room. Piper really couldn’t wait for the whole finding the message thing, though, so she dragged Sissy upstairs and pointed at the tube and then ran off giggling (and coughing).

Sissy wrote back immediately.

The game was a hit with much sneaking between rooms.  It was sort of like a message in the bottle, but you didn’t have to wait years for the ocean to bring it to you. I was even rewarded with this:

Awww. Piper confirmed that Sissy’s new game was awesome.

“This is so much better than 60 questions, Mom.”

“Do you mean 20 questions?”

“Whatever,” the dictator said. “Hand me that tube and start writing.”

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