Hot Potato

We have a game that we like to play in our house. It’s called Hot Potato. Sure, most of you have heard of Hot Potato, probably even played it as a child, but in our house, the rules are a little different.

First of all, our potato is a little different than most. This one isn’t even that hot. More like lukewarm. And squishy. It also moves of it’s own accord and makes lots of noise. To keep things from getting complicated, we like to call the potato ‘Sam’.

Secondly, with most games, everyone sits down, plays the game, someone wins the game, the game ends. Our version of this game has NO END!

Let me demonstrate a typical round of Hot Potato in our house.

When the game starts, I am always in possession of the potato. I put the potato down and it scurries away into a brother’s bedroom. Shortly thereafter, a brother drags the potato back to me. I put the potato back down and it scurries towards it’s own bedroom where the door is promptly slammed in it’s face. The potato runs back to me.
I put the potato down and it turns towards the den where there is a Lincoln log village that has been painstakingly built. After the sound of collapsing logs and a heart-wrenching wail, the potato comes running back to me. It is now turning red and getting increasingly hot.

I decide to end this round by putting the potato away for a few hours. It is placed in the potato bin with some milk to marinate with.

I go outside to get the mail and return to have the potato shoved back into my arms.
“Why did you get the potato out of it’s bin??” I ask.
“It was too loud and we’re trying to watch a video.” They reply. “Besides, it’s rotten.”
I test the air and sure enough, Hot Potato has turned into Rotten Potato.

Round two has begun. Great.

Oh, and the last thing that is distinctly different about our version of Hot Potato is this: It’s the potato that actually wins the game.