We are having too much fun playing Donkey Dodge today, a game my children invented last night involving the donkey from the Shrek movies, to worry about writing a book. The rules of the game are simple. I stand against one of the walls in the basement with one of my daughters while the other chucks the donkey at us and we try to dodge him. If you are hit, which is inevitable as the donkey is the size of an adult’s leg and the wall space we use spans about six feet across, then you become the thrower. When you throw two bodies against the wall and hurl a flying donkey into the mix, someone is undoubtedly getting caught. I prefer these games involving a little bit of creativity, some activity and of course a flying donkey, over the pretend games that Ellie usually rooks me into playing. These typically involve me pretending to be a cat or princess Lagostina while she is the bigger, stronger cat or Queen Paderno or the wicked stepmother. I beg for it to be naptime and she allows it but that requires the cat to lie on the ground with a makeshift pillow made from a rolled up parachute and is over before the cat’s head hits the nylon. The games of make-believe sometimes morph into a game of Frisbee in the backyard or hunting for gemstones in the garden, making “stew” out of leaves, sand and I’m sure cat litter found around the yard, a much better use of my time than being controlled and manipulated by that bitter old queen.
