August 09, 2005

Don't Break the Ice.

Last night as I was typing Reba's paper and watching the Miss Teen Fake Smile Scholarship Contest with Bouncy Bikini Action, I told Catherine it was time for bed. "Can I play a game with you? ::sadly:: But no, you'll probably say I have to go to bed."

Oh, goody--time to hit the road for a guilt trip! Of course, being an wizened and experienced parent, such shameless faux-emotional ploys to stall for time have absolutely no effect on me. Unless I want them to.

"Oh, fer heaven's sakes, Cat--yes, we can play a game, but it needs to be a short one that doesn't take a long time."

"Nooo. That's okay. I'll just go to bed and not play anything at all."

Good grief.

"You want to play dominos?"

"Nooooo."

"Go Fish?"

"Nooooo."

Having exhausted my known choices for rapidly played games, I suggested dominos again.

"No, and anyway, you just said that. Hmm--could we play "Life"? It don't lastes long..."

"Oh yes it does, too! Go find something else."

She rummaged and crashed around in the game closet and came back with one--"Can we play this?!"

Don't Break the Ice--hmmm--a fine choice! Quick, slightly loud, destructive, imagined peril and bodily harm for the little guy on the ice--just the thing for a quiet wind-down of the day! (I note that the newer versions have a prancing bear instead of the guy sitting on a chair. I guess someone thought having a person plunge below the icy surface was just too terrifying for small children. Much better a vicious bear.)

"Okeedoke--that'll be fun."

We sat down and fixed the blocks and started tapping. She lost the first one and the second one, but on the third pulled off a stunning upset, causing me to be the icebreaker. Lots of fun, and along about the middle of the second game when she was figuring out which blocks were safe to knock out, I had one of those runaway imagination things in which I envisioned a heavy, bespectacled Russian man scurrying along between tables full of opponents, playing each one simultaneously, and with each tap and fall of a block, he would triumphantly smack a timer button, just like a chess master.

For some reason, it just struck me as funny, although I confess it might have been the effects of another night spent typing a paper completely free of possessive-indicating apostrophes, which has made me have to stop at every pronoun to determine its plurality or singularity, and then have to go back and determine if it agrees in number with the verb.

"Okay, we've played three games now--we'll put it back in the box for tomorrow night, okay Daddy?"

Fine by me, and I look forward to tonight's rematch.

Posted by Terry Oglesby at August 9, 2005 10:31 AM
Comments

I’ve had the exact same complaint as the GOYL with the same people. When I told the front desk that others provided free WiFi, I was told “well we are considered a first class hotel.” I asked if that was a reason to provide less service.
I think part of the problem is that perhaps many of their guests are on business and just charge the fee back to the company.

Posted by: jim at August 9, 2005 10:54 AM

comment update:

Starbucks also wants you to buy T-Mobile. However Panera Bread > Home has free WiFi and free coffee refills. I just might move there.

Posted by: jim at August 9, 2005 10:54 AM

I wonder if Jim will ever realize he's commenting on the wrong story?

Posted by: Terry Oglesby at August 9, 2005 10:57 AM

Not that it's a problem, because the point is well-taken. It does kinda make you wonder why anyone would pay more for less service.

Posted by: Terry Oglesby at August 9, 2005 10:58 AM

I blame it on inferior equipment—namely my brain.

Posted by: jim at August 9, 2005 11:17 AM

It's a first-class brain!

Posted by: Terry Oglesby at August 9, 2005 11:20 AM