“I’m bored.” I say. “Can we play a game?”
“Okay,” he says. “What do you want to play?”
“How about shiritori?”
“I don’t know; I’m off shiritori lately.”
“Really? But it’s so much fun.”
“Eh.”
“How about another kind of spelling game then?”
“Oh, bollocks. You know I can’t spell. Why don’t you spell words I give you?”
“Okay.”
“Irish words.”
“Playa, please.”
“What? You said you were picking up bits and pieces of pronunciation through osmosis. Give it a try!”
“Okay.”
“Sráid.”
“I know that word! That’s ‘street.’ S-R-A-I-D.”
“Where’s the fada?”
“Over the a.”
“Well done! Now spell a mhúinteoir.”
“Um ….”
“You know this phrase. Addressing the teacher, remember? Ma’s e do thoil a mhúinteoir …”
“A-V …”
“WRONG!”
“Ugh. B-H?”
“Try again.”
“M-H.”
“Good.”
“A-M-H … U ….”
“U-fada. Go on.”
“M-H-U-fada …N.”
“Wrong.”
“M-H-U-fada-I?”
“Good. Continue.”
“M-H-U-I-N-T … O …”
“Wrong. Three vowels are next, and the first one isn’t ‘O’.”
“Let’s see if Glee is on.”
