There is a place. A lovely place where lovely things happen. Putt-putt golf, batting cages, bounce houses. And also, not so lovely things. Things like a girl whomping the pants off her father in a long-awaited air hockey match. Things like this same girl yelling in triumph for the entire state of Michigan to hear and wonder. Things like this girls mother (and this father's wife) taking pictures documenting this sad, sad day. Pirate's Park: A place where dreams come true. Well, for me at least.
The date: not so long ago.
The place: a near-neglected, disrepaired shack in Flint-town
The extras: Mom, devoted photographer of family feuds
Becky, apathetic sister, along for the ride
Kaeden, loving nephew, always roots for Aunt Sarah (and most determined giver of wet willies I've ever known.)
Mr. X, Park proprietor and all-around nice guy.
Here's what went down.
Though my dear father tried his level best to cheat (I had to REPEATEDLY tell him to "get your hand off the table before I break your fingers with the force of my awesomeness") I beat him fair and square with witnesses. Let the record show. Let the people hear and rejoice:
I AM VICTORIOUS!
And I thought I was a sore loser. He's already demanded a rematch (what's this now, best 51 out of 100?)
Oh, and plus? While my dad distracted Mr. X, Becky and I played on the bouncy things. Sorry, Mr. X! I know you said no adults allowed but we just couldn't resist!