Then he decided that instead of Borderlands, we would play Skylanders. Grudgingly, I agreed to that as well.
The move to Skylanders inevitably led Secondborn to decide that he wanted to play. I turned over my spot to him.
The addition of Secondborn (who is still three, and tends to make his character run all over the battlefield instead of usefully contributing to the game) inevitably led to a certain difference of opinion in how the game should be played:
"Come this way!"
"No! Over here! Dis way!"
"There isn't anything over there! Please just follow me!"
"No! Go dis way!"
"Away from the blades! Move away from the blades! You're pulling me into the blades! Are you crazy?"
"I am not cwazy!"
"Then why are you running into the blades? Getting yourself killed is crazy! If you don't want me to think you're crazy, stop running into the blades!"
"I am not cwazy!"
So... Skylanders is off, both boys have retreated to their rooms, and I have a headache. Oy.
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