Poncho: “I called F-7 and his boat was there and there so he should have said sunk, right?”
Me: “Um, yeah…”
Dad: “I don’t think you called F-7.”
Poncho: “I did! I called C-7 and D-7 and E-7 and F-7.”
Poncho: “So, Dad didn’t say sunk, which makes it a crime of war–”
Me: “A crime of war?!”
Dad: “I didn’t cheat.”
Poncho: “So I should have won, right?”
Me: “Sure. Right.”
Apparently Poncho takes Battleship very seriously. Actually, it wasn’t really Battleship, because he made up a different version of the game that includes torpedoes and double-fire and who knows what else. Grandpa had a hard enough time trying to play regular Battleship the other day, because he thought it was possible to retreat and move the ships around. (“Whale!”)
Speaking of games, I played Fruit Ninja for the first time yesterday morning. And I do not understand the point of that game at all. Why must you slice the fruit? What happens if you don’t (besides losing)? Why are there bombs? At least with Angry Birds there’s incentive to smash the pigs because they laugh at you when you miss horribly (I’m not very adept at touch screens, okay! Or catapults…). Angry Birds is the story of determined little creatures fighting against smug green pigs. Fruit Ninja is… slicing fruit. There is no meaning!
Aaaaand I expect a story/meaning from an app.
Well, that’s what happens to a person when they don’t actually own any app-ified products (just play them once in a blue moon on someone else’s) and spend their time reading.
Or, also. Knitting a sock. (That’s right, I’m actually Miss Marple in disguise. That explains my old-lady habits. Well, I did solve the Bethesda Printer Mystery! I will never forget that shining moment of my life. Just saying.) And on Monday, Eliza made salt dough and we all stamped things in it, to make pendants and buttons and such. Rachel said, “Well, we’re officially ready for the apocalypse. We’ll have warm socks and wear salt dough jewelry.”
Because we definitely have to plan for jewelry. Gotta look fabulous while stirring up the squirrel gut stew…
Till the battle ships,