From the original article on December 26, 2008. Author: Chateau Heartiste.
Game is a social dynamic that children as well as horny adults play. Game has roots deep in the human psyche that appear at a very young age, and thus is immune to the cultural conditioning explanation. My one and a half year old nephew and three year old niece provided excellent test cases of game in action.
Examples
Even though there was a mountain of toys under the tree, some still unwrapped, and toys strewn all over the room, when my nephew saw my niece playing one particular toy with great concentration he decided that was the one he wanted, RIGHT NOW. When she wouldn’t share the toy, he cried (i.e. bitched and moaned in child language).
When I gave my niece her present, she grabbed it and shredded the wrapping into confetti. Her mom had to remind her to thank me and give me a hug, which she did... absent-mindedly and perfunctorily, like she was fulfilling a tedious social obligation.
Later, I was deeply engrossed in playing with the cat. It’s a very fat cat that when it sits on you keeps you warm all over, like a wool blanket. My niece saw that the cat was contented, and I was completely focused on scratching it under the chin. I told her she could come and pet it if she was gentle. She bounded over.
I was watching one of the great classics on TV — Cannonball Run. My niece wanted to play “magic wand” with me again. (Previously, I let her turn me into a frog.) I waved her away. She kept coming back and I kept telling her to move away from the TV. She whined and ran right up to my face, bopping me on the head with her wand and begging me to turn into a frog.
When I finally relented and turned once more into a frog, and made ribbit noises, she squealed with delight. She zapped me with her wand again, and I turned into a monkey. Then a dog. And a bird. Each time I imitated a new animal, she released bursts of joy. But as my list of zoo animals ran out, she began getting bored. When I half-assedly meowed like a dying cat, she said “That animal is boring. I’m bored” and haughtily walked off.
My niece pulled out her stuffed animals and arranged them around a few dishes of my grandmother’s fine china. I asked her what the toys were doing, and she said they were having a tea party. I told her the elephant would not need hands because he would suck up his tea with his trunk. Then I pretended to be each of the animals, acting out the scene in progress. “Woof, Mr. Giraffe, would you please pass the bone?” “Excuse me, Mr. Dog, but Mr. Tiger wants to eat you. He likes delicious dog meat with his tea.” My niece parried my every move with a storyline of her own. The character development was better than most Hollywood blockbusters.
I told my brother-in-law that based on the toys my nephew and niece played with (lincoln logs and princess dolls respectively), there was little chance they would grow up homosexual. His lineage was safe.
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