A puzzle. That's what.
One kiddo is still at home, for the most part, and I like to tease him about taking the time to play cards or board games or such with his old mum. We've tried the video game thing, but I cannot even master Mario Kart, so I'll probably never be playing Call of Duty or any of the higher caliber video games. I can barely figure out the controller. Okay, I did NOT figure out the controller, but I tried.
The one night I go out to dinner with friends, the kiddo tells me he wants to play Rummy, but too bad so sad, I'm not home. I didn't even know that he knew how to play Rummy. I usually have to play cards against the computer, and sometimes I even a win.
"100 or 300?" he asks.
I look at the box and realize he has produced one of the many puzzles that I sorted through over the summer. I'm reasonably certain that I disposed of any puzzle missing more than one or two pieces.
"100," I answer, "and there may not be all 100 pieces, just so you know."
We have twenty minutes until dinner is ready. We finish the puzzle in less than ten, and, yes, every piece is here. Sure, the 300-piece puzzle would've taken longer, but we need the table to eat shrimp and stuffed clams.
After dinner, the kiddo rinses off his plate and silverware then heads upstairs to do real battle against his cyber pals. The amazing thing is that he can hold multiple conversations, including fielding phone calls, while playing video games and watching television, all without missing a beat.
I don't mind.
We successfully navigate a puzzle, and we have another wonderful dinner. It may be a step back in time and technology for him (akin to the Stone Age, I'd imagine), but we finally find something I can master and play just as well as he can. Maybe even just a touch better.
