Sticks

Last night, when the power went out at the Superbowl, my kids got a little ansty waiting for the game to resume.  Bubba put a sleeping bag over his head and bounced around the room.

"Bubba," I said.  "Take that thing off of your head, or you're going to bump into something and hurt yourself."

"I'll take it off, only if you play a game of sticks with me."

I had no idea what that was, but I agreed to do it.

"Stick out your fingers like this," he said.  He pointed two index fingers at me.

I did as he demonstrated.

"Now tap my two fingers."

Huh?  I was confused, but I tapped his fingers.

"Now put up three fingers."

"Why do I have to put up three fingers?" I asked.

"Because you're supposed to."

"You're out!"  he announced.

"Wait a minute," I said. "I have no idea what just happened, but this game makes no sense!"

My daughter jumped into the scene.  "Watch, Mom."

She and my son played a game of sticks.  I watched as they stuck their fingers out and tapped each others hands.  "Do you get it?" she asked when they were done.

"Um, no."  I said. 

"Mom, you're so slow!"

Great.  Not only am I old (see previous post), but now I'm stupid.  Oy!