eople arrived at 6:30 on Christmas evening. The mulled cider was warm and waiting. The house was ready to accommodate an extra seven people. Snacks littered the kitchen. Time to crack out the games. Every year I put together a package for the kids to open Christmas Eve that contains a new game, movie and book. This year's game was Twister. Within fifteen minutes, the kids were all twisted up in a ball on the polka dot mat. Sadly, Gabriel got a few moves in before he began to cry. There is fine line between fun and confused distress with 3 year-olds. Daniel replaced Gabriel and held his own, giving us more than a glimpse of his snowman boxers. There were no takers among us older, more brittle, folk.
Once the kids were no longer able to hide their exhaustion, we tucked them into bed and gave Quelf a try. If you have not played this game, and you don't mind kicking all your self-dignity under the rug, please try it. It is so absurdly ridiculous you can't help but laugh from the first play card. The game had my little brother singing a song in a foreign language while dancing with his hands stuck to his knees and his tongue stuck to his lip. My mom had to prattle on about the plight of the timber wolves in Czechoslovakia. My dad had to sing a love song with his knees squeezed together while pretending he had no lips and was coated in maple syrup and feathers. Daniel had to keep the entire game box stuffed up his shirt. Kate had to stuff an ice cube down her pants until she rolled a '6'. Aidan had to yodel until he rolled three 2's. I had to wink and stick my thumb on my forehead every time I wanted to ask a question, and we ALL had to shout "Boo Ya!" every time we rolled the dice. This is simply to name a few. Like I said, you must truly be a good sport to even attempt to play.
While mildly brain-dead, we managed to play a game of Quiddler before calling it a night. Our games cupboard is getting full. That's a good thing.
