The Neverending Conversation

The other day I was busy hanging clothes up in my closet when Toby burst in and asked what game I was playing. I explained to him that it wasn’t, in fact, a game, but a rather mundane task that comes with the privilege of adulthood.

HE stared at me with a look of bored skepticism before announcing that HE was playing a game with Gochar and that I was WELCOME to come and play it with him.

“Oh,” I said, “What game are you and Gochar playing?”

I can always tell when Toby is making things up because he assigns the most RIDICULOUS names to his inventions.

“We’re playing HAVOSHANCASHA” he announced confidently.

“Right,” I told him with an equal amount of self-assurance, “I don’t know that game so I’ll just let you and Gochar play.”

Little did I know, my off the cuff dismissal of HAVOSHANCASHA would result in the longest, most ridiculously torturous conversation of my life.

NOT TO WORRY! I was reassured; Toby had LOTS of other friends who could teach me the rule of HAVOSHANCASHA. Would that be to my liking?

Sure.

I hopped in the shower.

The shower door opened. Which one of his friends would I like to have teach me the game?

Politely closing the shower door, I suggested the only “friend” I knew: Gochar.

The shower door opened. Had I FORGOTTEN that Gochar was already busy PLAYING the game with TOBY?

I shut the shower door. No, I hadn’t. Whom, did he suggest, I pick to teach me his game?

I was presented with a list of equally ridiculous made up names. The list went on and on while I shampooed my hair.

Finally reaching the end of the list I felt, beyond the depths of my soap-sud-covered-eyes, the familiar cool breeze as the shower door opened yet again as his demanding little eyes waited impatiently for my final decision.

It was at this point, I think, that I forgot what we had been talking about in the first place.

“Oh, RIGHT.” I remembered, “I have to pick someone to teach me that game. Huh.”

There was an anticipatory silence form the other side of the shower door. I was not going to be let off the hook easily.

DAMMIT. I had NO idea what made up names my 3 year old had come up with. Not only had I not REALLY been paying attention, but even if I HAD been, the weird tonal inflections and unusual consonant pairings made them virtually unrepeatable in the first place.

“Honshi?” I tried.

“NO! Mom that is NOT one of my friends.”

As you can imagine, it took a good number of guesses before the odd arrangement of syllables that came out of my mouth at last matched with the names of one of Toby’s imaginary friends.

“Phew. “ I said, emerging from the shower. “Jagar it is!”

“Ok, mom. “ my bossy son said wagging his finger at me, “I’ll get Jagar, but you’re going to have to pick another one, too. You need to have TWO teachers.”