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Marbles
After several days of deadline pressure, I returned to Ricochet this evening intending to write a post. What did I discover? That everything I wanted to say had already been said. (Troy Senik: Mitt Romney still strikes a lot of conservatives as “someone who sees this as a game to be won, rather than a cause to be advanced.” If there were a Pulitzer Prize for individual sentences, Troy would just have clinched it.)
Instead of opining, then, may I simply offer a word on behalf of fatherhood? My youngest daughter, who turned 10 just yesterday, dragged me away from my work just now to force me onto my knees for a game of marbles. Just marbles. Thirteen mibs inside a string circle, the blue shooter for her, the orange shooter for me. When I missed an easy shot by about two feet, she erupted into such pure, unforced peals of laughter, collapsing onto her side and rolling on the carpet, that I decided right then that I had never experienced a more completely delightful moment. Then, the game tied at six apiece, I missed again, leaving her to make a long, tricky shot–and knock the last mib out of the circle, winning. Oh, the look on her face! Surprise and joy–sheer joy. For an instant, the very universe had to a ten-year old in pajamas.
“Dad,” she said, laughing once again after saying her prayers, “I still don’t see how you could have missed that one shot.”
Until tomorrow, Ricochet.
Published in General
Peter and his wife have five children. My wife and I have four. With that many children, it is not a drive to crazy, just a short putt.
A gimme?
You must have an aggie for a shooter. This is a marble, not a Texan.
Good for you, Peter: Never too busy to smell the roses or shoot the marbles.
Marbles, eh? That sounds like a completely appropriate post for a site called “Ricochet.” Cheap shot or right on the mark?
I guess you’ll have to knuckle down for your next shot…and a subject for your next post! Looking forward to it!
Moments such as this from Peter are what separates Ricochet from all other political/opinion sites. Thanks, Peter.
Childish innocence is a wonderful thing.
This exactly what we’ve got in Britain with our answer to Mitt, David Cameron. He’s a Conservative for whom conservatism is a moveable feast – to be picked from or completely jetisoned according to the perceived whims of the electorate.
Wish we still had a ten-year-old. And a seven-year-old. And a four-year…well, I won’t go that far.
Peter, suck it up like a sponge, it ends too soon.
Conversation overheard when my little girl (Bug) was almost four and was walking back to the car with her bestest friend ever (Sara) just a few feet ahead of me:
Sara: That was fun.
Bug: Yeah.
Sara: Leslah’s the silliest grownup ever.
The most excellent compliment I’ve ever got.
I find kids keep me young. And yes, even sane. We have 6, and we home school, so they are always around: learning, helping, working on projects or chores or assignments.
I can now walk into a store, hand the list to a kid, and meet them at checkout. Like whirling dervishes they get it all done, and do it right.
Kids give me unspeakable pleasure. I wallow in it, like some big hippo in a massive mud bath. When I want to feel sad, I imagine them all out of the house…
It’s always the simple toys that are the most fun. My three-year old daughter has a plethora of electronically-enhanced toys, mostly received as gifts. Her greatest joy, however, is breaking out either the TinkerToys, her magnet blocks, or Lincoln Logs and declaring that we have to build “The Biggest Thing Ever” (a result, at least partially, of much time spent watching the indispensable ‘Phineas & Ferb’).
I have a hard time believing that anyone who cannot appreciate the sheer joy of children is, in any meaningful sense, a human being.
Thanks for sharing Peter. Reading about that beautiful moment set me on the right pace for the day.
My wife has a category of story: TTTTS (The Things That They Say).
One of my all-time favorites was a conversation between two 11 year-old boys.
JOB POSSIBILITIES — T and his friend were in the car together, discussing the low level of gas in the car, and how we needed to get to a gas station soon.
Friend: “I sure would not like to be one of those people at a gas station who give change when you don’t pay by credit card.”
T: “Why?
Friend: “Because I stink at math.”
T: “Well, anyway, it is not that interesting a job. Sure, you get to occasionally see fireballs, but they are trying to cut down on those, so I think it must be usually quite boring.”
Kids give me unspeakable pleasure. I wallow in it, like some big hippo in a massive mud bath. When I want to feel sad, I imagine them all out of the house… ·23 minutes ago
My parents delighted in their children, too. Things were strict, but we’re all incredibly close. My parents were so close with each other that it actually surprised me that they were a bit sad when we all left. But then we just began repaying them for their kindness through the gift of grandchildren.
Peter,
As I read your post feelings of nostalgia and melancholy welled over me. My baby, one of four children, will be twenty-one next month.
Then a happy thought came to me.
Grandchildren!
Lovely, Peter.
My wife and I didn’t meet until I was halfway through my 30s. Now, as I start the back half of my 40s, I still have a six and eight-year-old in the house, while many of my friends are in the process of readying their kids for college.
I look at these people, and I think “They look so old!” which I suspect is largely an illusion and a mirror that shows me only what I want to see. But I know that my kids keep me young.
I’m certain I was on the path to becoming a bitter and cynical old man. My wife, and then later my children, saved my life.
I’ll now speak a word on behalf of grandfatherhood. I was pressed into service to watch my 3 year old grandson yesterday. We had breakfast, gathered eggs from the chicken house, checked the beehives and took Nick the 3-Legged Dog for a walk. I had to delicately answer his question of where the steers (which we called “the Boys”) had gone and a million other questions only a 3 year old can think of. It will go down as probably one of the best days of 2012. The old saying is right, grandchildren are God’s gift for not having murdered your children.
My mother had the following saying on our refrigerator: Avenge yourself: live long enough to be a problem to your children. She’s 93 and kickin’!
Edited 16 minutes ago
I was never clear on the rules for playing marbles when I was a kid.
The rules seemed to change at will on my school’s playground.
The winner was the kid with the most influence to enforce his/her vision of the rules at any given time.
(Insert comment about government here.)
When I grew up in a rural town in the fifties, playing marbles was huge. We played in the dirt, and I actually wore holes in the knees of a pair of jeans in less than a week.
It was a great lesson in meritocracy. In my town, there was a freckled, red-headed kid named Johnny Jones (think of the freckled kid in Sandlot). To the best of my knowledge, Johnny had no other athletic skills, but he was a marble-playing phenom. At the end of a couple of hours, he would always win my marbles.
He still lives in my home town. I’ve seriously considered raiding his garage, because I have a strong feeling it’s filled with coffee cans filled with my marbles.
Saw this comic yesterday. Knocked me over.
Lovely story, Peter. Started my day off right.
Here’s a story related only by the marbles.
HEADLINE: Noted Conservative Peter Robinson Loses His Marbles, Blames His Youngest Child
One of them always gets you in the end, Brother Robinson….
Thanks Pete,
Maybe I can get some sleep now. The Rabbis say that an adult is to a young child as Gd is to the adult.
The child can not understand the complexities of the adult but is secure in knowing that the adult loves them unconditionally.
So Gd loves us unconditionally.
One of them always gets you in the end, Brother Robinson…. ·3 minutes ago
Edited 2 minutes ago
I object…you took this out of context. He obviously left them in Neverland.
What a lovely moment, Peter. Thanks for sharing it. Children are a blessing:
Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them: they shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate.–Psalm 127:5
May she continue to torment you for years to come.
Just awesome, how could you miss that shot? My 9 year old just finished “Where the Red Fern Grows” 20 minutes ago and there was some consoling involved even though he knew it would end sadly.
Peter and his wife have five children. My wife and I have four. With that many children, it is not a drive to crazy, just a short putt.
Like Peter, I would not trade any of it away for all the gold in Glenn Beck’s safe. Although when the tuition bills start rolling in next fall for the oldest’s freshman year the wife might consider selling me off.