I have a good idea....

Trevi likes to entice us all to join in on his invented games by shouting the phrase, "I have a good idea!"
He says it so earnestly that you immediately agree about the goodness of the idea, regardless of what it is. Today, his good idea was to play "Pick Up the Sheet" (an old classic). Here's how it goes:
Trevor grabs the sheet off of his bed, and drags it around the house for awhile (and I cringe as I watch him shuffle across the chronically filthy kitchen floor). At some point, Trevi lies down and covers himself with the sheet. He then uses some kind of weird voice to shout out, "Mummy, Trevor left his sheet on the floor! Please pick it up and put it back on the bed!"
My job is to pick up the sheet and carry it back to the bed, all the while grumbling about how heavy it is, and how I had never before noticed all of the lumps and bumps in that nice sheet. Finally, I toss the sheet on the bed, and am shocked to discover that there is a boy hiding underneath!
Trevi laughs and laughs, and then asks me to leave the room (my cue that the process is about to begin again). Further proof that one doesn't need all kinds of fancy toys to keep a kid amused. Which brings me to the next good idea....

We have been playing a bizarre version of golf over the past few days (Or, in Trevi's words, "This is my special virgin of golf that's a new virgin that's different from the old virgin that most people play.") Ya, I'll let you do with that what you will..... So, yes, golf. The gist of this, ahem, version of golf is that we toss whiffle balls in and around obstacles in the backyard. Trevor is in charge of guiding us through the course, the layout of which varies from day to day, depending on what happens to be lying around. Today, Trevi added a brand new element to the game: planning. He built the 18th hole in our hallway, complete with a bucket at the end to catch and hold your ball, thus ending your round.
When I had finally mastered the stroller trap and whiffled my ball into the bucket, Trevi high fived me and said, "Congratulations, Mummy! You got the high score!" Then, he hung his head and said, "But I'm sorry to tell you that the high score is actually a bad thing in golf. It means that you don't win. Better luck next time, Mummy."
Apparently he learned about golf scoring from Curious George. Good old PBS.