My son, age 7, is intensely competitive, just like his grandfather. Our house is basically a massive theater for what he calls “the foot game” — whoever manages to step on top of another person’s foot wins. How do I get him to put on his clothes? I time him, and then he tries to beat yesterday’s time. Every walk home from school is a race. He brings games home, too, almost every day. My most recent favorite is a game called “my grandmother’s underwear.” The rules are simple. People call out phrases like “Your favorite thing to eat is” or “What are you wearing right now?” and you have to answer “My grandmother’s underwear” without laughing. A surprisingly profound game. What makes grandmothers’ undergarments so hilarious? Children are the source of all comic genius. 

-- Stephen Marche