the tindog coffeehouse

My kids love games. One of their favorites is something they simply refer to as the “circle game.”

The circle game is a large, round tin box filled with marbles, chess and checkers pieces, pick-up sticks, dice, and Parcheesi pieces, with boards for each game printed on the inside and outside of the box. I know the girls got it as a gift at some point, but for the life of me, I can’t remember from whom.

Whenever we sit down to play, I usually suggest Chinese checkers, or if it’s just the two of us, regular checkers. But almost always, the “game” ends up being some convoluted make-it-up-as-they-go-along product of the girls’ imaginations. Roll a die and pick up that number of marbles. Once you have so many marbles, you get a green pick-up stick. If you get a yellow pick-up stick, you have to put it back and get a red checker instead. Put all the marbles in one pile and all the checkers in another pile, then dump everything back in the can and stir it up with your stick. (OK, so now we’re making soup?)

I used to groan at the random nonsense of it all, but then I realized that I wasn’t teaching them as much as they were teaching me.

When I look at this box of game pieces, I see Chinese checkers, chess, Parcheesi — specific games with set rules and guidelines. When they look at it, they see a collection of raw ingredients that can be used in an infinite number of ways.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve slowly lost the ability to imagine, to see the various possibilities. I’ve been conditioned to go to work, do my job, pay the bills, check off the to-do list, and never, ever deviate.

Not them. At least not yet.

To Megan, a scrap piece of paper is a canvas on which to create her latest masterpiece. To Erin, a plastic harmonica case is the perfect container for her partially sucked-on peppermint stick. Megan happily sleeps with her baby blanket, even though she outgrew it years ago. And Erin pours out compassion on her dollar-store teddy bear who is abnormally flat.

They each walk to the beat of their own drummer, and in each in their own way. And I hope that never changes.

I guess I need to learn how to stop taking life so seriously, to let go of the things I don’t have any control over and appreciate the things I have. The job, the bills, all the responsibilities that go along with being an adult, those things are still important. But that doesn’t mean I have to stress out over everything either. After all, it’s just a game, right?