twisterPosted: January 22, 2013
I might have cheated at Twister. The game with the giant plastic mat with the large colored dots and the spinner that told us to put our left whatsit on the orange dot and our right thatsit on the green one. Our young girls were so supple and limber, that leaning on them a bit, or nudging them seemed fair. The girls always wanted to play, and soon we had our own style with a bit of rules and a bit of a wrestling match. I was only thirty years older, and outweighed them by one hundred pounds so might makes right?
One day I played my oldest while my youngest spun the dial. I am certain she was using her thumb to stop the spinner at the very worst place for me as time and time again she gleefully called out “Left hand blue” between giggles, or “right foot red”. Twisted like a soft pretzel, I strove to maintain balance and dignity as I surreptitiously hipped my oldest to nudge her off the dots. I could hear her, straining as that big galumph pushed mercilessly to move her. Her arms and legs shook, but she would not be moved. She clung to those dots on the mat like a glue Gumby.
I waited for the next call when all of a sudden a little forty pound hurricane, spinner and all, landed on my back sending my youngest and me crashing down off the mat amidst laughter and tickling as my oldest pranced around the living-room claiming victory.
Sometimes breaking the rules is more fun.