Pro Kadima is a ping-pongy game played with large wooden paddles and a hard foam ball. We don’t actually boast any knowledge of the official rules, so when we play we just set some volley goals and cross our fingers.
Today my youngest son, “M” begged pathetically for me to disregard dinner preparation and flee to the carpet for some “hitting.” Carefully positioning our two ottomans as a dividing line–or net, I supose–we went to work, counting aloud with each hit.
In case you don’t know, maintaining a volley with a five-year-old is a bit of an undertaking. His forehand swings tend to land on the fireplace mantle or smack into one of our new lamps. I especially love those. The backhand attempts generally sail off the tip of the paddle and land…in another room.
But all in good fun, right? [insert shoulder shrug and tedious smile]
Of course it’s all ratcheted up several notches when my husband gets home. Brandon imagines that a match-up with me carries the weight of winning the gold medal or preventing the sky from falling.
He loosened the collar on his dress shirt and sank into position, swaying back and forth like Agassi in pinstriped pants. At this point I’m already laughing.
“C’mon now. This is serious!” he exhorts. “Let’s get to 20!”
With the kids enjoying the hand-to-hand combat, we began, their heads bobbing left-to-right and back again.
“13, 14, 15…D’OH!!” Nuts. “We” missed. [a-hem…]
“Let’s try again. SERIOUSLY Jane! Be for real! We’ve got to get this!” [read: the fate of the world rests in this pseudo-Pro Kadima match that he’s playing in dress clothes and without rules].
“15, 16, 17, 18…” Missed again. Rats.
“Jane! What time is it?! We have to get this before I leave!” he pleaded. “Ahh!” He lets out an exasperated scream–the kind that you’d allow yourself after shopping online for an hour, only to find your cart wiped clean just as you’re ready to buy everything.
I, of course, start laughing at his genuine effort and the pain he’s enduring over the fact that we can’t quite seem to pile up enough hits to make the 20 mark. After the next miss Brandon screams again. Literally screams…kind of like this.
At this point my stomach nearly hurts and I’m laughing so hard I can’t imagine doing anything 20 times in a row except maybe tinkling in my pants or rolling on the floor like a rabid critter trying to scratch its back.
Well, you’ll be relieved to know that we made the 20-hit mark, as evidenced by the sky not falling and us sporting genuine imaginary gold medals. And everybody knows that when a Pro Kadima invasion hits the living room, those are the best kind.
What do you do for comic relief in your home? What are ideas for quick family fun?