Mrs. Gore has a confession to make…there are some moments I don’t cherish.
There are 4 words my little boy can utter that make me inwardly, and sometimes outwardly, groan.
“Wanna pway ‘I Spy'”?
Playing “I Spy” with Gideon Michael Gore is something akin to torture – the government could definitely use him to break down uncooperative prisoners. It doesn’t matter if we are driving the 10 miles to my parent’s house or on a road trip to the Hill Country of Texas; about five minutes on the road and you can be assured it’s coming…a long, confusing, mind-boggling game of “I Spy.”
It goes something like this:
Gideon: I spy somefin’…that’s brown and green, Papa’s favorite, and it flies in the sky.
Me: Ummm…a parrot?
Gideon: What’s a parrot?
Me: Its a bird, really colorful, that can talk…you’ve seen parrots, remember?
Gideon: Oh yeah. No, not a parrot.
Gideon: Wrong! Its a…brown and green parrot!
Do you see the problem? First of all, he isn’t really spying anything, he is…creating. Also, he doesn’t stick to his original plan but makes up his answer as we go along…but that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that he usually asks to play this dreadful game at night, giving his Papa and me about three options to choose from when it is our turn to “spy”: the yellow line on the road, the red lights on the inside of the car, and the green lights on the inside of the car.
But then, none of Gideon’s games are very intelligible…
One morning, he joined me in bed and asked if I would like to play the new game he made up. “Sure.” I said, sitting up and putting on my glasses. We sat cross-legged on the bed, facing one another with our disheveled hair and he began explaining the “rules” of his game….rules I could tell he was composing as he looked around the room. “If its a window, window, if its a light, light, if its a bed, bed, if its a wall, wall, if its a book, book, if its a pillow, pillow, if its a lamp, lamp…” He continued to rattle off every object in the room and then said “Okay, go!”
“Ummmm…window?” I said, tentatively.
“Wrong. You’re out!” he said with exultation. I sat there trying to figure out how I had gotten the answer wrong when he apparently changed his mind. “Oh, you’re in!”
“Yay!” I said, having really no idea where we were going with this game. “Your turn?” I asked.
“Uhhh…light!” he said.
“Nope, you’re out.” I said. He looked down at his lap and said “Awww, man!”
“Oh, you’re in!” I exclaimed, hoping I was following his rules correctly.
“Alright!!” he clapped. “I’m in! Your turn.”
“Umm…bed!” I guessed
“You’re out…you’re in!” said Gideon.
We played at this game for at least ten minutes, and even though it was so…weird…and made absolutely no sense to me, he had a ball. And it sure as heck beat playing “I Spy”!