We take the small aluminum bat and the "safety" baseball to the concrete schoolyard and I try to pitch the ball at the exact level where the grandson swings. Every time he makes contact, the ball rolls a hundred or so feet until gravity and friction kick in (I have no fielders behind me). Grandpa retrieves the ball. The grandson says, "Grandpa, why don't you run after the ball?"
Even without running, Grandpa manages to pull a muscle in his side and experience some interesting numbness in his left leg.
We play a board-game called Narnia. It has three separate kinds of dice; it has "sword cards" and "event cards," "wolves" and "white witches." Grandpa doesn't seem to grasp the game's subtleties. The grandson says, "Grandpa, why don't we play something less complicated."
We play chess. Grandpa manages to lose the first game, but despite his best efforts, takes a lead in the second match (perhaps because he's fully mastered the way the knight moves). Grandpa makes a gracious offer: "why don't we just say it was a draw?" The grandson responds by flying his queen over the ranks and files and knocking Grandpa's king off the board. The grandson says, "Why don't we just say I won?"
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