Poke Her With a Pool Cue

For some reason a topic of discussion at tonight's dinner included poker. (And, potential jobs & moving & Germany & Texas & the Rockettes & Marching Band & Meet the Teacher & pseudophed - just another ordinary day around our Haus.) For whatever reason, Laze-E commented on FryBoy's (age 9) ah-mazing math skills at the poker table.

MiniMe immediately piped up wondering what the heck is poker, anyway?

I answered that it was a game. And, before I could explain farther . . .

Man began poking at her in some misguided attempt to make a joke. See? Poker. Poke-Her. Hardy-Har-Har.

I know, I know. And, yes I was the one forcing this quality family time around the dinner table. Salad & leftover lasagna my incentives. That, and of course, bribes of ice cream for dessert.

MiniMe either did not see the so-called humor of the game Poke-Her (who could?) or the "joke" was completely lost on her. She only missed about one beat & then I could see the awesome power of deductive reasoning beginning to dominate her neurons. Though Man continued to poke-her (annoying, isn't it?) as if to illustrate the details of a poker game, my baby's eyes lit up as it all finally made sense.

Oh, Poker! It's that game where you poke the balls with the stick.

Huh?

Lucky for me, Laze-E caught on quickly and set the record straight. Oh, that game is called pool.

Oh, the swimming pool!

No, Sweetie. Pool is the poke-her game. And, poker is a card game.

Other than taking MiniMe to WalMart occasionally, I fail miserably in some areas of motherhood, most notably: pool, poker, light beer, tattoos & BB guns. Some essential life lessons will just have to wait until our next trip to Texas. Uncle Jerry can teach her to play poker. Grammy can show her a few tricks at the pool table. PaPa can handle any questions about light beer & tattoos. And, BBLady, well, we all know what she can do.

Me? I'm all about the ice cream. Praline Caramel Crunch, anyone?