Visiting my parents and my nephew this week, I had the privilege of alternately witnessing and participating in the most sophisticated war the world could ever know. It is low-cost, clean, contained, quietish, and stops for snacks and meals. Also, the conclusion is foregone. Consider:

1. Bunkers are made of discarded cardboard boxes, pillows, an exercise mat, and a quilt. In my nephew's foxhole, there is an imaginary jacuzzi that requires no water, no maintenance, no electricity. Faceless felt hand puppets are drafted in as spies at any moment. They don't require a salary or benefits. The one and only tank contains a recorded officer and an entire military band. Wrapping paper cores and yellow streamers provide the laser beams required for certain high-tech missions. No environmental fallout, no sad news of war dead, no weird diseases or ensuing psychological disorders in the years to come.

2. Air power is derived from high-tech planes made from recycled office paper. Air traffic control (Grandpa) is also an aviation expert who keeps the fleet aloft. A visiting aunt (moi) straightens mangled planes for kamikaze missions. Because there is no real bloodshed, there is no MASH unit, no triage, no bloodstains on the carpet.

3. The battlefield can be set up and taken down (by Grandma) in 15 minutes. It stores easily and will burn well when wars fall out of fashion.

4. It stays in one room. There is no territory to acquire. A family room full of soft furniture is trophy enough for any little fighter.

5. This is good because the troops call a truce when they stop for lunch at 11:30 and retire to the canteen for pizza or hot dogs. Officers fraternize with enlisted men. In fact, my nephew, a five-star general, has a pet name for the leader of the opposing army. He calls her Grandma.

6. The conclusion is foregone--my nephew wins--because there are no enemies--only grandparents who want him to have fun before he heads off to kindergarten. (There's also a miniature plastic Shrek, an ogre who leads Grandma well because he can't talk and distract her from her important missions.)

So there you have it: a battle that is as real as it gets in a little boy's mind--a battle that leaves everyone with a peaceful and quiet afternoon during which to get ready for the next round. You don't have to win; you have to believe you're a winner, which of course you are because you're loved. That's this weeks blessing from our Commander in Chief.

(The photo of my nephew shows him on leave one summer day.)

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