The lame me

I just realized how lame I am. . . How I missed everything. . . and how late it is to cope.

One drizzly afternoon, after reading a novel, I went off to a bicycle ride at a nearby drier to rest my exhausted eyes. I saw kids, including my sisters play a game called tumbang preso with my father coaching them with what to do. It was my youngest sister’s turn by then and my dad was anxiously screaming commands at my sister. Then I realized that he was telling my sister to move out of the speeding slippers way by not standing behind the can. But my sister ignored it and stayed at her damn place with a somber look.

The kids and my father often yell “standing” and shout commands to run and catch someone. I truly don’t understand this game though I know some of its rules. But if you put me to test with my knowledge by playing it, I probably would just stand and watch in bewilderment.

Not only tumbang preso but loads of other pinoy games too, except patintero, though I can’t say I’m skilled with it. Maybe, or more likely this is because I haven’t enjoyed my childhood that much. I wasn’t allowed to play with other kids around. You know when I learned to play patintero? It was when I stepped in high school. I can’t play that kind of games in a private school I went to during elementary. We were disciplined to the bones that we only play during Fridays and with barbies, toy cars, jacks, badminton, and skates. It’s pretty lame. I only enjoyed skates and jacks, then when thought I grew bigger for those, I resorted to reading a book during our playtime.

Well, well. I’ve been talking too much again. Bye now.