Just a Normal Conversation...
Saturday morning at Mary’s house, kidful version. Last weekend was the kidfree version. Players are Mary, Big Stepson (Big) age 17; Little Stepson (Little), age 10; and the wonderful Q, partner of Mary and father to stepsons. Small background detail: BigSon his learner's permit (now called a G1, I think) which allows him to drive only if there is a licensed driver in the car in the passenger seat alongside him.
Little: Daddy, do you have a big playing card, a regular sized one, and a small playing card?
Q: You want three cards?
Little: No, two. A big one - you know, like a regular sized one - and a small one.
Q: Oh. No, I don’t.
Big: What do you need the cards for?
Little: I’m not telling. We don’t have ANY cards?
M: We used to, but I have no idea where they are now.
Big: That’s because people like YOU keep losing them. [He fixes his small brother with a meaningful - and friendly - stare.]
Talk moves to my plans for the day, and a possible need for a ride downtown for me. We have one vehicle, many children with many activities. The logistics need to be worked out carefully.
Q: BigSon needs to get his license. If he had his license, he could drive you downtown....
Big: I could drive her downtown...
Q: Well, yes you could, but then she’d have to come back with you, and..
Big and Q, together:... what would be the point of that? Bwah-hahahaha
(Like father, like son.)
Q: I guess I could drive you, if you want to go.
Small: Drive me, daddy? Where?
Q: No, not you. Mary.
Big: Yes, you! We’re going to drive you downtown and leave you there.
Q: Yes, and you can stop people on the street and ask them if they have a big playing card and a small playing card.
M: Did we ever find out what he needs the playing cards for?
Little: I forget.
Big: And I have to go to work now, anyway.
Little: I didn’t think you wanted to go today.
Big: Not particularly, no.
Little: Well, don’t go!
Big: You can’t just not show up because you don’t feel like it that day.
Q: Yeah. That’s why it’s called a “Rat trap”.
M: You mean the “rat race.”
Little: Don’t go! [Falls dramatically at Big's large feet, arms outstretched, pathos oozing from his every syllable and cell.]
Big: Well, you could always come with me. Be the cute little kid and be bored for five hours.
Little: Not me! I don’t want to be in the rat pack.
Q: No, you just want some playing cards.