The boys have settled on Rock, Paper, Scissors as a way to solve disagreements that are otherwise unsolveable. The other night, we were in Daytona with Nana when a Rock, Paper, Scissors moment suddenly arose. They had been told they could split a dessert, but they had to pick one.

One wanted Creme Brulee, and the other wanted Chocolate Decadence.

We play Rock, Paper, Scissors to a specific cadence. The players say “Rock, Paper, Scissors, Shoot!” at the same time, tapping their right fists in their left palms at each word. When “Shoot” is said, the right fists form the appropriate shape at the exact same time.

Usually.

This time, my youngest son’s hand started with rock, then fluttered to paper, then kind of floated up to his shoulder. He hung his head. An improperly formed shape is an instant loss.

“I win!” his older brother shouted.

“What was that?” I asked.

“I don’t know what happened. I was thinking paper, but started with rock, then…” He started to giggle and waggled both hands in the air. “Jazz hands!”