I open the door, and that cute little lisp says: "Amy, do you wanna play a game wi' me?"
[Now I've heard on the Discovery Channel, that infants, and small children, are actually built for survival. Their eyes are over sized for their face, and their hands are so small, in order to produce nurturing/sympathetic feelings from predators. Now who am I to resist the powers of nature??]
"O.K, Joel." I hear myself say.
First he wants to play Boggle, which is fine with me, only he can't read yet. So we spelled out "joel" and "amy" with the cubes a few times, and watched the timer run out of sand.
At this point, I still haven't slept, but predatorial amy jo can't overcome the "aren't i cute?? don't you just want to hug me?-fermones" the boy is emitting.
...Please put yourself in my place for a moment. You haven't slept or bathed since you left your last eight hour shift at the Burger King... your muscles feel like jello from unloading the truck last night... what is the one thing that would put you in Board Game Hell? ...
"Twister it is, Joel." I hear the, now delirious amy say.
It worked out for the best though... his arms barely reached across the mat, and I had the boy so twisted up and upside down, he finally just flopped on the floor and said: "I'd wather just go home."
I sent him on his way, Twister in hand, to play with his brothers, and promised him it was more fun with a lot of people playing. He said "I'll be sure to bwing it back tomowo." Which translated out of cute little boy language actually means: "Don't bother setting your alarm in the morning... I'll be sure and wake you up. ;)"