N has been obsessed with the game of Monopoly lately. He wants to play it 24/7 (when he's not playing Angry Birds, that is). He's always trying to enlist family members to play with him. Unfortunately Monopoly does not hold the level of sway over the rest of the family that it does over N, so he is generally at a loss for fellow players. That is scarcely an obstacle. He may not be able to secure any parents or siblings to sit down and play the game with him, but that doesn't stop him from getting their permission to play the game in their behalf. So N will set up the game, deal out the money, and lay out the player tokens for Mommy or L or me without any particular need to have any of us at all involved, or even in the house. He will then roll the dice, take the move and make all the monopolistic financial decisions required of the game on our behalf. He is very conscientious, however, to give the full play by play of the game to anyone who might be virtually playing so they we know exactly where we landed, exactly how much rent we paid, and exactly which property (that N bought for us on a previous turn) that we have now mortgaged. The accounting is precise and detailed.
N: Mommy, you landed on Park Place. It had a house on it. I've mortgaged your Railroad
Mommy: Uh-huh.
N: Daddy, bad news! You landed on Chance and you lost the beauty contest.
Daddy: Uh-huh.
N: L! Do you want to buy Baltic Ave.?
L: <crickets>
N: OK. I'll buy it for you.
I have to admit I haven't paid enough attention to my farings in these games of proxy to know whether I consistently do well, or whether N wracks up the dough an inordinate amount of the time, but I do sense that something important is happening here and that I should probably take action. At a minimum I should check to see if there are any intern positions available at Bain Capital.
I am ever mindful of the net gains Stacy's gene pool brings to the family mix. Take her Aunt Joyce, for example. When she was 19 she was crowned "Miss Washington" and spent a year sitting on convertibles, smiling and rotating her hand from the elbow. Unfortunately, in keeping with the misguided times of the late 60's, early 70's, she was inexplicably overlooked for the national title. They must have had replacement referees that year.
Then we went on to downtown proper where we had lunch at my favorite downtown haunt, the Grand Central Market. Three tortas milanessas and a round of soda and we were happy campers. 
We finished up the trip with a ride up L.A.'s famous funicular, Angel's Flight, and poked around Bunker Hill and the California Plaza. The dynamic water plaza at the top was alive with synchronized jets and pulses and was a ton of fun to watch.
