a rugs life

Rada received the Dora Explorer PlayPark board game for Christmas.

There are 3 versions of the game: Easy, Medium, and Advanced. We are currently playing Easy. If the players are older than 3 (as both my daughter and I are) they should be able to do Medium and Advanced but I cannot, for the life of me, figure out how. I went to college and am licensed to drive a motor vehicle in the State of Massachusetts, but the directions seem to be written in some kind of toddler-speak that is gibberish to me.

Was there some critical lecture in pre-school that I missed, something on ‘logical gamemanship for the under 5′?

There is the purple backpack with the small cards, the big square cards that go on the board, and the spaces on the board for Swiper. Somehow the small cards end up in the winning player’s hand, unless Swiper gets to them first. But how?  And what about the big square cards? Am I making this too complicated?

Here is the game that has shaken the foundations of my intellect:

Tuesday night, at 3 am, I pulled myself from a deep sleep, bolted out of bed and panically started looking for the hamster.

Apparently the hamster had not been fed for several days and I must feed it right now. I ran feverishly through several rooms before I finally woke up…

… and realized I don’t have a hamster.

Nathan of La Familia Brophy fame and Rada of this Rugs Life (with its devoted and fanatical readership of 12) recently met for absorbing evening of trains, tracks and playing.

Nathan’s dad Ben helped build an amazing track matrix.

Nathan’s mom Lisa prepared a delicious dinner. And for Nathan and Rada she made a special treat of crudites arranged in shape of a person, complete with buttons, hair, eyes and nose. (I wish I had taken a photo before these delicacies were consumed).

The best part of the evening happened after dinner when Ben, Lisa, and I had a long, uninterrupted conversation in the kitchen. Rada and Nathan clambered on the furniture in the living room and talked politics.

My car had been making a disturbing “whump, whump, whump” noise. So I brought it to the local repair shop early this morning.

…and drove away 20 minutes later, $15 poorer, with a smoothly humming car.

Fifteen dollars ?!? It has got to be a personal best. I am ecstatic.

I had been sure it was a broken rear axel, or grossly misaligned tires, or a faulty timing belt, and had for a moment contemplated ignoring the entire problem in hopes that it would go away (following the ‘maybe if I stay in bed all day my problems will solve themselves’ school of thought). But the car was dutifully taken to the shop. I was prepared for the worst.

But it was nothing more than a bolt lodged in one of the tires. The mechanic pulled it out, patched up the hole, and sent me on my way.

My daughter was crestfallen. She had been looking forward to a taxi ride from the garage to daycare.  I had been preparing her for taxi rides to and from the places we needed to go, assuming that the car would be in surgery for hours… perhaps days.

As I drove into the bright blue of a crisp morning, I promised her a taxi ride very soon, just for fun.