Can I Have a Fanta?

My nephew’s up.  “Wanna go for a bike ride?”  Dealing with a young male, to paint in broad brushstrokes, is different than with a young gal.  At least this young male and my young females.  He responds without thinking.  “Sure.”

We decide to head in to town.  It’s an unambitious ride of five minutes down the path.  He seems to think it’s very bumpy.  I suppose it is bumpy but then, the pathway isn’t paved.  It’s just gravel and earth. 

There in town there’s a pedestrian mall and we park our bikes.  I ask him if there’s anything he wants to eat.  “Would you like a hot dog from this hot dog man?”  Were I to have been his age, I almost certainly would have replied “Sure.” But he says “Nah.  Can I have a Fanta?”  “Sure.” I reply.  The hot dog man isn’t there.   We wait for a while and he finally shows.  He seems to be in the middle of other things but now, we have secured our soda.    

Off to the side is a table with two tables and an outdoor chess set.  All the pieces are there.  “Would you like to play chess?” I ask.  “Sure.” He responds.  Now we are in the middle of one and then another vicious struggle between good and evil, him vs. me.  Me vs. him.  I find my temperament very pushy, always willing to make equal exchanges of my court, as long as it keeps the opponent on the defensive.  This works well, unless you’re playing with someone who knows what they’re doing. 

Later, everyone is shocked that we’ve been away so long.  We walk the bikes back up the hill, below the porch and everyone asks if we’ve been biking all this time.  Neither of us need to consult the other and respond full throated.  “Sure.” 

Saturday, 08/31/19