Dear friends~ Here is how you play "Hippo Toss", a game designed for two players:
- Commandeer the lime green squeaking hippo from the dog’s toy basket.
- Stand opposite your opponent (in my case, it’s my nine-year-old son, the mind behind "Hippo Toss").
- Chuck your latex hippopotamus into the air, willing it to land—sturdy—on four feet.
- If the hippo lands upright, congratulations! You’ve earned a point. If the hippo bumps onto its back, I’m sorry to say you’ve lost a point. The first player to accumulate ten points wins. Best of luck!
"Hippo Toss" is still in the beta stages, which means each time we face off my son carefully considers unforeseen nuances and hones the rules accordingly: Does it count if the hippo bounces off your leg? What if it rolls on its side? From sports to board games, for years he’s absorbed what makes a game challenging, fair, enjoyable. Now I watch as he shifts from consumer to creator, leaning into the human inclination to add something new to the world.
"Beware, my body and my soul, beware above all of crossing your arms and assuming the sterile attitude of the spectator, for life is not a spectacle..." author Aimé Césaire implores. Each of us is a physical being, brimming with experience and ideas, and these bodies become our literal tools of participation and invention—whether penning words on a page or considering the intricacies of how a bug-eyed toy does or doesn’t land standing up.
Intermingled with morning birdsong, I can hear the distinct "squonk" of the hippo from our front yard. I know it will be delicious to run barefoot in the springtime grass, chasing that hippopotamus and tallying points, so I’m headed out to join my youngest. I’ll leave you in good company: the catalyzing voices of artists and contemplatives who remind us to follow those life-giving creative impulses. To "experience becoming..." ~ Joy