A Game of Go Fish with Myself

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It’s summer vacation, which means all day all kids.  And they’re lovely.  They’re high energy.  They’re ours.  The farm must go on.  There is a lot of work to do to get the farm fenced, pastured, cow moved, hay-ed and the rest.  The kids aren’t quite old enough to lend a hand, but they do what they can.  Zélie is loving the kids home all day.  She’s learning her secret power of cute manipulation expressed by grabbing loved items and running to the next room.  This followed by a “Zélie!!!!” in the distance.  Oh and she’s so proud.
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On this day, we found time to play cards.  I love a rousing game of cards.  I’m a poker man, myself.  We played War then Go Fish.  Go Fish is a simple game, unless you’re playing with four little versions of yourself.  The trash talk.  The dancing.  The singing.  You think you want to line up some matching cards, but that is secondary to the antics that occur while playing cards with our children.  I ( one of six ) was overwhelmed.  I couldn’t help but think of playing a game of chess with death only inverted into a game of cards with life.  These are little versions of me playing cards.  Sure there’s some Brent in there, but he’s not into cards.  I saw four versions of little brats like me carrying on, having a blast, trying their best to win at Go Fish.  Minty, the cute and young, seems to be the real shark.  She acts all five-ish but then she memorizes the asks and slams you hard taking all your cards.  Don’t be fooled by that one.  In French, they would call her “coquine” … a little rascal.

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