Let the board games begin

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I didn't come from a game-playing family. Well, I take that back. There were a lot of head games, but definitely no board games. Or card games. And only one video game (PONG!).

As a kid, I was envious of my friends who played Monopoly and Hearts and more with their families. I felt a little cheated that I never got to be part of what seemed to be such a fantastic family activity, one that bonds, teaches fairness and encourages humor and humility. I longed for that kind of stability, that kind of learning to play by the rules. That kind of family.

Sure, I received a few games as a kid. I remember having Trouble and Operation and Mousetrap. But they were given as gifts to play with friends, not family. My family didn't do that.

At least not the family I grew up in. The family I created with Jim did play games -- and still does.

When my three daughters were little, we had Chutes and Ladders and Candyland. I have to be honest in admitting I don't remember much about playing those games with the girls. Three little ones of (basically) consecutive ages creates a bit of a haze around the early years. But we had the games, and I know we played them.

As the girls got older, our game stash grew. We had Life, Aggravation and Rummikub (a fave game for New Year's Eve for many years, thanks to Gramma Darryl). As the girls became teens then young adults, we added Outburst, Trivial Pursuit, Movie Lines and others.

When Megan married Preston, he taught us card games: Hearts and Euchre (although I hate Euchre ... and readily admit that to Preston).

Our most recent game additions include Imaginiff, Fact or Crap, MadGab and -- the newest family favorite -- Bananagrams (thanks to Grilled Grandma Susan's suggestion).

We are far from being the kind of family that has scheduled family game nights, but when we get together for longish visits, it's more likely than not that a game will be played. To my delight, we have become one of those game-playing families I once envied.

Which is why I was so thrilled that for Bubby's second birthday he received his first board game. It wasn't from me, and it wasn't the traditional toddler standby of Candyland or Chutes and Ladders. It was Goodnight Moon Game. And Bubby loves it!

Goodnight Moon Game game play for two-year-olds is pretty basic. It's a matching game focusing on learning to take turns. And everyone wins (which keeps adult players from having to patronize the little ones by pretending to suck at a game). That's good enough for now. The rules can be adjusted according to age, so Bubby will learn about fairness and strategy later.

So with Goodnight Moon Game readily available during my recent adventure with Bubby, I enjoyed my very first board game with my grandson. He was the perfect game player, happily taking turns and even assisting me when I took a bit longer than necessary in finding matches because I kept snapping pictures. He took the matching tasks quite seriously and glowed with pride upon completing the matches with Gramma.

Twice during my visit, Bubby and I played three or four rounds of Goodnight Moon Game. Because Bubby concentrated so hard in his search for matches, we didn't speak much during the game, other than his exclamations of "There it is!" or "My turn!" and "Your turn!" But even without the jovial conversation that typically accompanies playing games, my first games with Bubby will go down in my memory as some of my favorite ever.

Without a doubt, in playing our first real game together, Bubby and I both came out winners.

Today's question:

What is your favorite board or card game?

Grandma's assistant baker

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Not only was Bubby's visit to Grandma's the first time he rode on a plane without Mom or Dad and the first time he slept in the big boy guest room all by himself, it was his very first time to bake cookies -- chocolate-chip cookies! -- with Grandma.

 

Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm! Finger-lickin' good!

Today's question:

Chocolate-chip cookies are my signature baked good. What is yours? (If anyone wants the recipe from another commenter, say so in the comments and I'll conduct a recipe swap through e-mail. OR ... you're welcome to include your recipe with your comment to begin with!)

A thank you and a beer

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We're a pretty communicative family, no doubt about it. Not only do my girls e-mail and text and call on the phone with chitter-chatter and pseudo tweets, they also mail me goodies. Real mail, snail mail, via the United States Postal Service.

Just last week I received a couple postcards -- not something I typically find in my mailbox.

First up was a precious thank-you card from Bubby. Megan's teaching the boy right and made him put pen to paper to thank Gramma and PawDad for his recent birthday gifts.

Bubby decorated the front of the card with stickers and special words. Megan translated, with Bubby's best comment of all -- for whatever reason -- being "Big banana. Eat it."

The back of the card was Megan's words because although at two-years-old Bubby obviously has the motivation, he's not yet mastered the fine art of thank-you-card protocol.

Coming in from the opposite end of the grandparenting/parenting spectrum was the postcard I received from Andrea last week. I'll let it speak for itself.

Front:

And back:

In her defense, Andrea did send a Thank You card last week, too, expressing her gratitude for the birthday gifts we gave her.

But it's the beer tour postcard that made me smile most because, c'mon, how many 25-year-olds share their drinking adventures with their parents? And think of dear ol' Mom and Dad while downing a pint or two at the pub? And actually fill out a postcard for them while there?

Like I said, we're a pretty communicative family.

Today's question:

When did you last send a postcard? Where did you send it from and to whom?

My answer: I actually sent a postcard just last week. It was part of my friend Amber's campaign to end breed-specific legislation in Denver (the legislation that bans pit bulls, like my Mickey).

Just walkin' the dog(s)

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Most of my friends are pretty active gals. They regularly work out at the gym, fitness boot camp or other similarly strenuous locations.

Not me. I walk. With my dogs. Same time, same route, same five out of seven days each week.

Here are some highlights of our daily fitness routine:

Out the gate and ready to roll, with Mickey in the lead and Lyla working on the "focus" command.

Now she's got it, periscope ear up and all -- proof that she's focused! (Keep an eye on that ear throughout; it does not go down!)

On the road ...

... past the open area where the deer and the fox like to roam.

Up the hill to the house where the maniac dog of questionable breed rushes the chain link fence, providing the best arm workout of the trek as I try to force the dogs to maintain at least minimal composure. (It doesn't usually work.)

 

Back down the hill again.

Trit, trot, trit, trot (with a tangled leash, evidence that composure was lost on the way down the hill).

This is the house of the man who hates Mickey ... and Lyla ... and me ... and every other living being (except his grass, which I think he manicures with scissors).

Up the next big hill ...

... where wondrous views await ...

... of ... Walmart and its busy parking lot ... at 9:30 on a weekday morning! While K-Mart, across the street, sports a nearly empty lot. (Poor K-Mart.) Okay, not the greatest of views, but if you turn the other direction, you get ...

... ta-da! Pikes Peak! This is the view we appreciate most.

Even Mickey can't get enough of the natural wonder. (Lyla can't get over the empty parking lot at K-Mart.)

While standing in the same spot, we need only glance slightly to the left for a full view of Cheyenne Mountain, with NORAD deep within. Well, it used to be the home of NORAD but now they've gone and moved it to a totally unsafe -- in my opinion -- location, with just bits and pieces left deep inside the mountain. But that's another story, for another time and featuring fewer photos.

Continuing on our way, with me searching the field where the fox den is located, ready to provide a detour if a fox comes our way.

Past the house where the nice man likes to smile and yell across the street, "Who's walking who? Ha, ha!" (Like I've never heard that six hundred and fifty-two trillion times before. But that's okay cuz he's nice ... and he thinks it's funny.)

One more view of Pikes Peak ...

... then we're homeward bound.

Ah, home sweet home!

The dogs make sure the coast is clear: No squirrels. No birds. It's a go.

And we're back where we began.

Fitness mission accomplished!

Sure, there are no pushups, no pullups, no plank positions involved. But the yanking of the leashes this way and that way while avoiding fox, squirrel, deer and passing vehicles (which are like crack to Lyla, who's having a difficult time giving up the habit) is more than enough workout for this grandma.

Mickey and Lyla, on the other hand, are ready for more. They dash off into the backyard the second the gate is opened, scaring the cuss out of each and every robin, wren, mourning dove and squirrel who had the gall to relax in the shade, eat from the bird feeders or splash in the water while the dog patrol was out making its neighborhood rounds.

Today's question:

What's your exercise routine?

Two thumbs up

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As I've mentioned before, we are a movie-going family. We love movies and we love going to them together, sharing the cinematic experience.

Bubby went to his first movie with me and Jim (and Megan and Preston, of course) when he was just days old. We saw "Wanted" with Angelina Jolie. He did great: no crying, no screaming, no fussing. Grandma didn't do as well. "Wanted" is an insanely loud film, with gunfire, explosions and more, and I spent the entire time worrying that we had made a huge mistake in taking Bubby with us and that we'd ruined our brand-new grandson's hearing beyond repair. But he seems to have done just fine with it and (as usual) my fears were unfounded.

We also took Bubby to his second movie: "The Dark Knight." Again, it was a loud movie. But as he was just one year old, he did okay with it, pretty much sleeping through the whole thing. I do believe Megan had to do a little walking around with him, but nothing outrageous, nothing to curb the movie going.

So we took him again. To see the last "Indiana Jones" movie. No major problems there. Bubby seemed to do quite well with the adult fare. Although from that point on, Bubby hasn't joined us -- or his parents -- for a film. Common sense prevailed over our movie fanaticism, and we didn't want to reach a point where Bubby would actually cry during a movie and upset other viewers who had paid a high price to watch a big show on the big screen.

This past weekend, while Jim and visited for Bubby's second birthday, we decided to forego the adult fare and give Bubby a shot at seeing a film on his level ... with popcorn and all ... and trillions of other kids in attendence. We went to see "Toy Story 3". And Bubby loved it!

He patiently awaited the beginning of "the big show," sitting nice and tall --and quiet -- in his booster seat:

Once the big show began, he watched ... and watched ... and watched ...

... until he didn't want to watch anymore. But in all fairness, his antsy-pants didn't kick in until about 15 minutes before the movie ended. And he had Grandpa to visit when the antsy-pants kept him from sitting in his seat.

All in all, Bubby's first real movie-going experience was a success. This final scene says it all:

Yep, a true success! 

Next up: subtitles! He's already such an advanced movie-goer that I don't see it being long before subtitled fare is on the bill.

Looks like we'll be keeping this kid in the family!

Today's question:

What's the first movie you remember seeing at the theater or drive-in?

My answer: "Benji" on a school field trip.

The tortoise and the hare-like grandma

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Gah! With all the busy-ness of the past week or two, I completely forgot to get a gift in the mail to Bubby! How could I do that, especially for such an important event?

What? Huh?

No, I didn't miss Bubby's second birthday. We'll head to the desert to celebrate that in a few weeks. What I forgot to mark in a timely fashion is World Turtle Day!

World Turtle Day, sponsored by American Tortoise Rescue, was started to increase respect and knowledge for the world'’s oldest creatures. According to ATR, the critters been around for about 200 million years, yet they are rapidly disappearing as a result of the exotic food industry, habitat destruction and the cruel pet trade. The ATR website has some pretty dern informative turtle tidbits, such as, "If a tortoise is crossing a busy street, pick it up and send it in the same direction it was going. If you try to make it go back, it will turn right around again."

This year the 10th World Turtle Day was celebrated on Sunday ... May 23 ... while I was in South Dakota ... where the buffalo roam and where I saw lots of deer and antelope playing but nary a turtle that I had to help make its way across a busy street.

When I realized my blunder of forgetting to mark the day for Bubby -- it fits perfectly with my mission to regularly celebrate wacky nationally recognized dates with my grandson -- I hopped online in hare-like fashion and ordered the most awesome tortoise to be delivered to him lickity split. That's it in the picture above. Yeah, it'll arrive a few days late -- not so hare-like at all, I guess -- but I'm pretty sure Bubby will enjoy it just the same.

And because it's made of plastic, Bubby won't have to worry at all that his turtle toy will attempt any daredevil street-crossings! Frankly, he'll likely need to worry more about forgetting the little guy out in the hot desert sun where it'll melt into a puddle of ticky-tacky tortoise goo, which would be so not in line with the ATR's mission "to save turtles and tortoises for the next generation."

Happy belated World Turtle Day to one and all!

Today's question:

Did you or anyone you know have a turtle when you were a kid?

My answer: I didn't, but my cousins did -- and it was less than four-inches long, which, according to the ATR website, is a seriously illegal critter to have in one's possession. Tsk, tsk on Aunt Ruby for allowing such things! But then again, that was about 40 years ago and maybe turtle possession is one of those things that once skirted regulation ... kind of like hitchiking and entering stores without shirts or shoes.