Back when Mollie was still in elementary school, I used to show up early to pick her up because traffic was so bad. This meant that I spent fifteen or twenty minutes just hanging around and waiting. I did not spend the time chatting about which Starbucks coffee went with which pastry with the other adults, because frankly adults bore me. I just played with the little kids waiting for their older siblings to get out of school.

Often this involved the classic game of tag. I am a large man… (I mean tall, just so you know)… and I have never been much of a runner. The little kids quickly picked up on this weakness, and came up with a strategy that involved darting in, tagging me, shouting ‘you’re it’, and darting off before I could tag them back. This soon began to get on my nerves.

So I went home that day and formulated a strategy of my own. I got a rubber glove, stuffed it with rolled up paper towels, and tied the wrist closed, leaving a long piece of string dangling from it. The next day, I waited patiently to put my plan into action.

A little boy zoomed in, sensing an easy victory. He tagged me fair and square. As soon as he began running away, I pulled my new secret weapon out of my pocket and tossed it at him. As soon as the glove hit him in the back, I yelled, “You’re it,” and then I reeled the glove back in with its long tether.

If you can’t join them, beat them.