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My son met me in the hallway with news that was too good to keep to himself.   “Me and sissy are playing rock, paper, scissors,” he said. He pointed down the hallway in the direction of the holiday totes, as if the game could actually be somewhere other than where he was.

Only there parked on the floor was a white sheet of paper, a pair of kid-sized scissors, and a random piece of yarn stuck to a roll of Scotch tape.  Forget the rock.

“We’re not really playing,” my daughter clarified.  “I just asked if he wanted to play…”

Which…was enough this time.  The invitation.

Someday—with fewer supplies—we’ll teach him the real game.

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