Over Christmas break, my sister E. and I played the drinking game in the back of the Smitten Kitchen cookbook with very cheap tequila. It was made all the more fun by the fact that I have a very low tolerance for alcohol, mostly because I hardly ever drink.
For those of you that don’t own that cookbook, Deb recounts she and her husband reading Fox in Socks to their kid:
We got kind of competitive about it, I admit, challenging each other to read the book quickly and without stuttering, and then, when friends would come over, we’d drag them into the game, and it wasn’t long after that, on a night when the baby was at his grandparents’, that it became a full-on drinking game, where stuttering over a word meant you had to drink (p 302)
Picture E. and I sitting on the living room rug, reading Fox in Socks from a computer screen, and trying to laugh softly so we wouldn’t wake up our dad, who no longer sees the fun in such games, especially when they involve his daughters. We didn’t get very far (at least I didn’t), but had that much more fun in failing.
I was reminded of this a couple days ago in German class, when we did tongue twisters. Including this one, my favorite:
Ein Stachelschwein, ein Stachelschwein, das muss ein Schwein mit Stacheln sein, doch hat es keine Stachelein, so ist es auch kein Stachelschwein.
Which means I need to challenge E. to a new round, only new and improved, and in German. If that doesn’t give me a sorely needed advantage, I don’t know what will.