Cut-Throat I-Spy

We live a ten-minute drive from a large city.

A city that has more stores than our bustling little town.

Stores we occasionally need to shop at when we need something more than groceries.

Enough background . . .

We (Husby, Daughter, Granddaughter and me) were heading ‘into town’.

For a three-year-old, it is a long, exhausting trip.

A game of I-Spy was indicated.

For the first few turns, all went well.

Granddaughter would pose, “I spy with my teensy-tinesy little eye, something that is . . .”

You know the game.

She posed. We guessed.

We posed. Everyone guessed.

Then it was Husby’s turn.

He started out all right. “I spy with my little eye . . .”

But then it all fell apart, because he ended with: “. . . something that is red but not red like Mommy’s bicycle.”

There was a momentary silence in the back seat as this riddle was digested.

Then a high little three-year-old voice said, decisively, “That’s not right Grandpa!”

I want to emphasize the word ‘decisively’. Because nothing else better describes a little three-year-old playing a favourite game.

This statement was immediately followed by: “You’re out.”

What? No warning? No yellow card?

Straight to the red (but not red like Mommy's bicycle) card?

Huh.

Did you know it’s possible to be immediately ejected from a game of I-Spy?

By a three-year-old?

Well, it is.

Take note.

Oh, sure. They look sweet and innocent.
But give them a striped sweater and a whistle . . .