A mother’s work is never done. Some days that old adage couldn’t be truer. The other morning at breakfast the kids kept yelling, “Jinx!” out of the blue when the other was saying any old thing and no one else was talking.
“Today I have PE and…”
Sometimes the rules of childhood games are not spelled out clearly enough to my offspring. They don’t understand the concept so they fill in the blanks themselves, creating a jumble of nonsense that even they don’t quite follow when they play together.
“You call jinx when you both say the exact same thing at the exact same time,” I told them. I didn’t go into the penalties related to jinx, such as then not being able to speak until someone says your name. Specifics would only confuse them more. We could get into that later.
Oh, that’s simple. Now they got it. Now hearing jinx when other kids argue, “That’s mine!” over a splintered, chewed-up pencil would make perfect sense. When you’re one of two kids who simultaneously yell, “Stop it!” at the annoying kid who is singing while she reads, be the first to say, “Jinx.” Gotcha.
Breakfast resumed. And then my daughter spearheaded another jinx effort. “OK, let’s both say Milk at the same time. Milk.”
“Milk,” my son echoed.
“Ugh. Try again,” my daughter prodded. “Say Q. 1, 2, 3, Q.”
Still not in unison. This could take some practice.
“You can’t plan jinx,” I told them.
Yeah, clear as mud.