I-Spy(d)

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?
Then watch the claws come out...