Michael and I have an inside joke. We pretend to pick up the phone and say, “Hello? Hi Banana, how are you? I’m good. Just hanging out. WAIT A MINUTE BANANA! You can’t be calling. You don’t have fingers! How did you dial the phone?”
The other game is the Fat Throwing Game. This was a funny way we learned to cope with our mother’s insistent fussing about our weight. The game is easy. We pretend to grab big wobbly pieces of fat off each other. Then we either have a fat fight (the equivalent of an imaginary food fight), or one person holds the wobbly hunk, while the other directs him or her where to throw it. Michael always wants it thrown at our mom.