I’ve just switched on my new iPad
that Grandma bought me,
when Dad knocks on my door
and asks me if I want to play
parisian rings in the backyard
and
I’ve just linked to a YouTube video
of these skater dudes doing half-pipes,
but I don’t want to hurt Dad’s feelings,
so I mumble about homework
and Dad says
we should play parisian rings instead
if he can suggest ten good reasons.
So I pause YouTube
and Dad holds up one finger:
‘It’s a beautiful sunny day outside.’
He holds up two fingers:
‘It’s . . . it’s not raining’,
which is really just the same reason as his first one,
but I don’t say anything.
Three fingers:
‘It’s . . . it’s more fun than an iPad!’
I frown.
He hasn’t seen YouTube lately.
Dad’s starting to look fidgety,
like I do in class when I don’t know the answer
to a question Ms Arthur has just asked.
Four fingers:
‘Your mother . . . won’t play with me!’
We both giggle.
Dad relaxes.
Five fingers:
‘We can’t throw an iPad forty metres in the house!’
Six fingers:
‘I’m bored!’
Seven fingers:
‘I need to lose weight.’
Eight fingers:
‘My dad threw a cricket ball with me
when I was your age!’
Nine fingers:
‘I need an excuse not to mow the lawn!’
Ten fingers:
‘Did I mention it was a beautiful day?’
I turn off my iPad.
Me and Dad play parisian rings
until it gets dark
and we beat our record
of one hundred and fifteen throws
without dropping it once,
when Mum calls out to Dad,
‘Don’t forget you promised
to mow the lawn today!’