Table Talk

We have "been in the habit of playing games" here recently, or so the saying goes.

We have enjoyed counting Cherries, suffered the ill timed slide of the 88th tile chute, and rejoiced with the Frosting Princes through many rainy days and after Christmas we have enjoyed the good fortune of expanding our collection to include a variety of checkers and Monopoly Jr., much to the mental relief of those regularly in charge of counting with the youngest cherry picker and candy hopper. With the expansion of our games has necessarily come the expansion of parental guidance in this budding community.

So, during a recent family competition, in an effort to cultivate an environment of cordial sportsmanship, in which all will prosper through the struggle for self mastery and competitive gain while sharing equally in the joyful success of all those competed against, and of course to subvert a developing alliance against the matriarchal figure of this developing community, I was forced to stop my oldest from enlightening his sister to a move of mutual interest in parental pawn annihilation, on the grounds of table talk, of course.

But my modest explanation of "table talk" was not enough for my six year old audience because, with absolute sincerity, he looked at me wide eyed, and with the hesitancy of the mildly confused, asked, "Can I just walk around the table then, and tell her?"