"You have to sit with your legs open and then you have to roll your marble and try to hit the other and ..."

With enthusiasm my oldest son is trying to explain the new marble hype at school.  Previous week he had received some marbles , played at school but left them unattended and they had disappeared. He was heartbroken that day but a schoolfriend had given him some new ones out of pity.  His eyes twinkle when he's looking into the bag of marbles that he just received from his aunt and nephew after that story. When I ask what they do with those marbles, he starts a long vivid explanation with a lot of gestures.

All of a sudden I'm no longer in a conversation with my son. My father is explaining how he played as a young boy with marbles and how he trained to twist them with finger movements or how some special marbles were worth more than others. His eyes twinkled when he talked about it. I had never understood why marbles were so special in a boy's life.

Now I wish I could timetravel with Kabouter. We'd travel back together 10 years with a small bag of marbles. And my dad would meet us with his old tin cookie box full of marbles. And the boys would connect , discuss tactics, twitch their fingers. And their eyes would twinkle.  And mine would twinkle while observing them.


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