This game was named "Fart Champion" by the four year old. It involved racing from the bottom of the driveway to the top. Or the top to the bottom. As far as I could tell no one was actually farting. They repeatedly yelled, "Ruchdown!" at random but balked when I yelled out "Touchdown!" trying to join in on the fun. Mila was granted a head start, but was never allowed to win. Every once in a while they pretended they were frogs.
There were more rules too-most just as asinine as above-but I quit keeping track of them as I sat back and watched them play from our porch steps.
I had dreamt of this moment. Ok, not this exact moment because: FART CHAMPION. But, the moment where the two of them played together-the made up games, secret languages and inside jokes. The unstoppable laughter and shared smiles. Yes, even the part where they wouldn't let me join in on the fun.
It's pretty amazing watching their friendship grow. I only hope they can get more creative with the names of their games.