My dad has been talking about taking a mahjong class at his church (Episcopalians being ambitious when it comes to tabletop entertainments), so for Christmas, I surprised him with a set of his own. He was delighted, and we both got very excited about it. And then we started reading the directions.
Me: “Okay, so the dragons correspond to the suits.”
Dad: “Dragons correspond to suits. Got it.”
Me: “There’s a red dragon, a green dragon, and… soap.”
[beat]
Dad: “I’m sorry, what was that last one?”
Me: “Soap.”
Dad: “A soap dragon.”
Me: “Yup.”
Dad: “Huh.”
Me: “Oh, and there are flowers and seasons, but they’re, like, interchangeable. I think.”
Dad: [flipping through the rule book] “And at some point, there’s something called a Charleston. Are… are we supposed to Charleston?”
Me: “Apparently. But we should probably figure out what these dice are for first. And all these coins. And this little spinner thing.”
[contemplative silence]
Dad: “Let’s play backgammon.”
Me: “Yes, please.”
He won.
Marjorie's Forgeries 