A Wii has been purchased and installed in the playroom.
“Right, what shall we do first; archery, bowling, sailing, table tennis, boxing or golf?”
“Table tennis”, say the thirteen-year-old and five-year-old, simultaneously.
I hand them each a controller.
“Okay, first to six wins.”
They adopt a ready-for-action stance and begin.
The thirteen-year-old takes the lead: 1-0.
“Ha”, he scoffs.
“You suck”, he mocks.
“This is so easy”, he teases.
“Boooring”, he yawns.
“Time-out”, I say.
I grab the five-year-old by her shoulders, look deep into her eyes and tell her, coach-style, that the next point is crucial:
“If he gets this point, you lose, so focus. Are you ready? You can do it!”
She looks over to her brother, who pokes out a smug tongue, then to me, who offers an encouraging nod, then down to her controller, and says:
“What do I press to shoot him in the face?”
The Male Nanny