Made the mistake tonight of asking Big Guy what he wanted to do tomorrow after school.

“I have an idea, but you’re not going to like it.”

Ugh. I knew what coming, and he was right. But because he looks so irresistibly beautiful — not to mention uncharacteristically calm — in those moments just before he drifts off, I gave in.

“OK, babes. We’ll play hide and seek.”

Damn his cute little butt, he got me again.

I can take a licking at Chutes and Ladders and handle getting my butt kicked at Candyland. I don’t know how he does it, but Big Guy always wins any board game we play. And I even watch closely to make sure he’s not stacking the deck on Candyland — he’s tried a few times.

I will help build the Island of Sodor through the entire house, and I have no problem with Play-Doh or anything else that makes a mess.

But I cannot stand hide and seek.

There, it’s out. I’m not proud of it — I have to be the biggest grump in the world to hate hide and seek. And I do feel guilty about it, especially since Big Guy in particular loves it so.

It was amusing a couple of years ago, when Big Guy took such great delight in hiding in the same place repeatedly. He had one favorite spot inside and one outside, yet he always erupted in gales of giggles at my cleverness in being able to find him exactly where I found him the time before. And the time before that, and the time before that.

I didn’t mind it as recently as the spring, when Little Guy joined in.

He’d either stand beside me, his tiny fists smooshed into his eyes as Big Guy hid, or he’d follow his brother as I counted and quickly rat him out. “Budder’s here, Mommy!” As if I needed the pointer. Because it was always exactly where I’d found Big Guy the time before. And the time before that, and the time before that.

The only thing that broke up the monotony was hearing Little Guy slowly learn to count to 10. Now that he’s mastered that, I’m left with unbridled monotony.

My problem is lacked of places to hide.

Big Guy had branched out to a few new spots indoors last winter, but now that he’s cracked the 3 and a half foot mark, he no longer fits in any of them. He’ll try anyway and squawk when he gets stuck. So we’re largely left with under bed clothes, behind doors and in overstuffed closets.

Outside isn’t much better. We can squeeze behind the shrubs — ouch — or crouch behind the garbage cans — ick. I’ve been so desperate for variety of late that I’ve lurked behind the car, a move that seems so obvious and bored, but they still find hilarious for some reason.

Maybe boredom is inevitable when a hillbilly tries to play hide and seek in the suburbs. When I was a kid, we had trees big enough to obscure us, forested hills and a well house if you dared.

The guys are left with the shrubs — ouch — or the garbage cans — ick.

I’ll give it my best shot tomorrow, because the guys don’t know how deprived they are and still think hide and seek is a hoot.

But if you need to call around 1 with some “urgent” problem — advice on shampooing your cat, maybe — I’ll be happy to help.

Copyright 2008 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

Similar Posts:

None Found

Popularity: 6% [?]