My playful mother invented this game that she plays with *Mila* when they see each other. Which isn't very often, not by any choice other than distance. *Mila* categorizes them into groups and the orange ones are bad. They are led by the larger marbles, the marble moms. I call them the mafia marble moms. These babes lead their giant entourage of like coloured marbles around to intimidate other packs of different coloured marbles. Generally the blue ones are good. Although they have their mischievious moments as well. Then the part their separate ways and meet back at 7-11 for Slurpees (I added this part of the story line in for her so I can pay homage to all the Slurpee slurping *Steve* and I did on hot summer nights in Winnipeg - yes Winnipeg has summer!). Are we doing *Mila* a disfavour by teaching her how to bully marbles of other colours? Uh oh. And she fits the part of an Arian dictator on most occasions too. She's just leading us into her Nazi ways when she gets us to play 'marble brats' with her. Sometimes she scares me and most days, I just scare myself.
signed, the willow
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