Show the Love

This is Izzy.

Izzy is the daughter of my friend Christine, who has a cottage at Misquamicut Beach this week, and casually invited us up. I don't think Christine realized just how quickly we would say yes.

Christine has a couple of sons, too, who are as clever and fun and smart and entertaining as their younger sister is. They bailed, though, after the first couple of rounds of Catch Phrase, and left the womenfolk to carry on the game.

Izzy's 8, almost 9, and she's extraordinarily good at Catch Phrase.

And awfully cute while she's at it.

I mean really.

.

Christine's niece Becky is spending the week with Christine's family, and it was us against them. Christine and I against Becky and Izzy. The UConn grads vs. the elementary school and high school girls. The 40-somethings against the under-17s.

And the bad guys were winning.

We got 'em, though. We flattered them and fist-pumped them and knuckle-balled them until they got soft and let their defenses down.

Then we went in for the kill.

In the meantime, our photographer was either getting taller . . .

. . . or inhaling helium . . .

. . . or being ascended . . .

. . . or growing wings. Our photographer seems to have taken flight . . .

After our crushing victory game, the party moved to the Westy, as it often does. Everybody loves a Westy party.

.

Christine and Becky love a Westy party . . .

.
Kenny and Christopher love a Westy party . . .

.

Well? What's not to love?

And what's the point of being a Westy-loving goober . . .

. . . if you're not going to show it?