i spy

I walk Nic to school pretty much every weekday morning. It takes about 15 minutes to get there, so we usually pass the time playing some kind of game. Sometimes we’ll “play a race”, other times we’ll play a game of tag. One morning, shortly after Nic had been introduced to the “freeze” variant of “tag”, he wanted to play that. I said, “Okay.” He tagged me and that was that. Some day I’ll use that image as a simile in some piece of writing, I’m sure: “It’s like playing freeze tag with only two participants.”

Another game we play often is “I Spy”. This is a good selection because there is much to “spy” on the way to Nic’s school.

There are the green, blue, yellow and yellow garbage cans. There are the mountains. The zebra crossing and the crossing zebra (not really). The big, blue sky. On occasion, you can see the moon. That’s a nice one because it is never in the same place twice and sometimes it is absent altogether.

There’s plenty of green stuff: the weeping willow, the thick grass, the bushes that flower. You’ve also got the security man that patrols our neighborhood, sitting in the small white car with blue letters on the door. He honks and waves, if he’s sitting in his car. He waves and says, “Buenos dias!” if he’s out of his car. To this, Nic responds by saying “Hola”; only it doesn’t come out of his mouth like it should: it’s more like a bashful, barely audible “Owa” to our stranger friend.

This morning we played “I Spy.” I thought today’s edition was noteworthy.

Nic: Let’s play “I Spy.”
Dad: Okay.
Nic: I spy something that you can walk on.
Dad: Is it the ground?
Nic: Huh?
Dad: Is it the ground? The dirt?
Nic: Uh, no.
Dad: Is it your feet?
Nic: No. I spy something that you can walk on.
Dad: Is it the ground?
Nic: No.
Dad: I give up. What is it?
Nic: It’s the ground.
Dad: (sighs) Oh, okay.
Nic: Your turn.
Dad: I spy something that has two arms and two legs.
Nic: Uh, is it me?
Dad: Yeah.
Nic: Okay. My turn. I spy something that is tiny and blue.
Dad: Is it you?
Nic: No.
Dad: Is it the water pipe?
Nic: Uh. (walks up to some sprinkler pipes) You mean this?
Dad: Yeah, that.
Nic: Uh, yeah. Ok, your turn.

(Dad pauses and thinks: “I spy ‘water pipes’? What kind of five-year old boy picks ‘water pipes’ in a game of ‘I Spy’?” He shakes his head.)

Nic: (bringing Dad back to earth) Your turn.
Dad: Oh, okay. I spy something that’s wearing a hat.
Nic: Uh, is it me?
Dad: Yeah.
Nic: Okay. My turn. I spy something that is brown.
Dad: Is it the houses?
Nic: Yeah. Okay, your turn.
Dad: Okay. I spy something that’s missing two front teeth.
Nic: (smiling) Uh, is it me?
Dad: Yeah.
Nic: Okay, my turn. I spy something that’s big and white.
Dad: Is it the truck?
Nic: Yeah. Okay, your turn.
Dad: I spy something that’s cute.
Nic: Is it Lexi?
Dad: No.
Nic: Is it a baby?
Dad: No. Okay, let’s cross the street now.
Nic: (crossing with Dad) Is it the sign?
Dad: No. I spy something that’s cute.
Nic: Is it…uh…uh…
Dad: (giving another hint) I spy something that’s cute and just got a haircut.
Nic: Oh! Is it me?
Dad: Yeah. You’re cute.
Nic: Oh, okay. My turn.

We’re nearing school now. We step through a pile of crunchy leaves. The rules of “I Spy” expand to include captivating sounds.

I kiss him goodbye. He bursts through the front door, exclaiming loudly his teacher’s name: “Estela!” Suddenly, he’s a Spaniard and his face is radiant. He’s running with glee towards the light of an estrella.