Sunday dinners at 44 Waterloo are always an adventure.  Just about every week, all 13 of us get together in one place, at one time.  The minute you guys walk in the door, the madness begins.  You’re so excited to be here and we’re equally excited to see you!  And when the Beaupre’s arrive (sometimes before you, sometimes after), the pace quickens immediately and the noise level fills the ridiculous-monster-size house we call home.

You, Emma and Camden –  the famous “Three Musketeers” – typically huddle together and plan out the night.  Molly and Ainsley do their own thing, often getting into trouble (I’ve chronicled their adventures in their blogs).  Jack and Madigan – still being little tykes – walk around and enjoy whatever they decide to do.

It doesn’t take very long before one of you asks me if we can go play together.  Usually this involves going “to the basement” to do something fun.  Last night was no exception, you hit me up with this request before dinner.  I said sure, but we’ll do it after we eat.

I’d like to say dinner is the highlight of our Sunday experience, but despite Grammy’s carefully prepared and scrumptious dinners, they are VERY fleeting experiences that rush by.  Ainsley and Molly usually barely touch their plates.  The rest of you eat pretty well, but there are two pressing items after you’ve quickly downed the main meal… (A) “Can we have dessert now?” and (B) Papa can we go play?

After the brownies or cookies or cakes have been consumed (elapsed time, two minutes or less), it’s time to venture forth and begin serious play time.

six of the seven Samurai on Sunday, Feb. 10, 2013

Last night you guys (The Three Musketeers) wanted to play hockey.  We went downstairs,  set up the two mini hockey nets and each of us grabbed a hockey stick. I layed down the rules “if anyone hits anyone else with their sticks, they go in the penalty box.”

It’s not that people intentionally do this, but often in the heat of the games, we aren’t as careful as we should be and damage is inflicted.  Usually on poor Emma!  Everyone played by the rules and was on their best behavior.

The teams are usually you and Camden vs. Emma and me.  Let’s just say the sides aren’t exactly even – and I don’t mean they’re in my favor! The score is usually something like 12-1, or on a good night, 8-2.  Camden invented a new variation – knee hockey.  Yes, we had to play on our knees. Man, nothing’s easy.  Sometimes I get fed up and hide a puck and when you’re not looking, throw it in the net and yell SCORE!!!  But Camden calls me on it every time and demands a penalty shot.  I can’t get away with anything.

After hockey, you said

Let’s play baseball!

This often gets a bit dicey because it’s close quarters and when you guys hit the ball it goes flying – fast and hard.  Last night Camden hit it so hard the ball found my Adam’s Apple before I could even react.  Gulp.

We switched to the soft baseball.  Bases were set up (cushions). Teams were set (you, Emma and Camden against me).  This time around, I decided to use a small soft yellow ball as the ‘out ball.’  Being the only player on a one player team, I needed it desperately to try to get you out.  No matter, even if I hit you in between bases, you guys are never out anyway.  It’s not an easy life in the basement.

You guys each took 4 to six raps apiece while I pitch away.  Just about every single turns into a home run.  Eventually, you thought of me and said:

Papa it’s your turn to bat!  You can use invisible runners.

This time, to shake up the routine, I decided to invent characters. Every time I came to the plate, I was a different baseball player with a different accent.

Jimmy, the southern boy who talked smack.  Pierre, the pitcher, from Paris.  Franklin, the boy from London with the formal speech.   Agnes, the fast-baller who took no mercy on boys.  And Karl, the short, timid boy with the curious little voice who swung mightily but could never connect. I even threw in Miss Piggie and Kermit one time.

You guys couldn’t get enough of these accents and were laughing huge belly laughs, begging for more.  Karl was your favorite:

Papa, make Karl the pitcher, make Karl talk, make Karl bat!

Every time a new sentence would leave my lips, you’d crack up.

I must say my favorite was Jimmy. I always like the way Southerners can extend one syllable words, making them longer and more complex.  A word like “fast” for example, becomes “FAY-YAST.”  Or “pitch” which becomes “peah-itch.”

We had lots of fun and when it was time to leave (your Dad and Aunt Tarah came down to get you guys), everyone cooperated and climbed back up the stairs.  Molly always asks me to give her a piggyback ride to the garage, which I love to oblige.  I knock on the windows of your cars and bid you Adieu.

This morning I got a text from your Mom. It said:

“So… Ben is walking around the house, talking with a lisp like Karl.”

I told her:

Oh boy!  they were laughing so hard as the different characters came to the plate.

Your Mom said:

“He loved it!!”

To which I replied:

Well, he’s got a great sense of humor and that will take him far in life!

Let’s keep laughing Ben, there’s no better medicine.