"Dad? Can you come play Headbands with us?" The kids found a game last year where you wear a band around your head and attached you place a card, a card with a mystery word printed on it. At least, it's a mystery to the card-wearer, but not to everyone else.
"Sure, just a moment," I told my youngest. I joined them after the cat moved and I was able to get up. The game is simple, or simple the way my kids play. We each take turns guessing our unknown word, or identity or person, place, or thing.
Of course, we are not the things printed on the cards showing outward to the world to judge. We are complex fascinating people with histories and stories of our own. We feel, we laugh, we share. And when one guesses correctly their word, the game ends and we all find out the words that eluded us.
I don't know how many more times my kids will ask me to join them in a game. I'd like to think they'll ask forever, but I know different. They'll grow and maybe they'll have kids of their own. And I hope when their kids ask them to play a game, they'll say yes, too.
