When I was a kid, my uncle sent me out on a “snipe hunt,” telling me to clap real loudly and hold out a bag. If you did it just right, you’d catch one, he told me.

I had no idea, of course, what the hell a snipe was, but I was a stupid child and needed one. By the time I gained more smarter things … in my brain … that made me … smart … I turned the tables and told his young daughter, my cousin, to go outside and catch some snipe. Foolish girl — she did. Some kids are just so gullible.

Emmeline and I went to see my uncle’s house the other day and here the tables turned yet again. My cousin, now grown up, urged Emme to run outside and go find some snipe. “I’ve been waiting for this day,” my cousin said.

So we all gathered by the windows or outside and watched as Emme stalked through the backyard, clapping her hands and yelling as loudly as she could, “Here snipe! Here snipe — come on, snipe!”

After too many minutes of sprinting hither and yon, she dropped the bag in defeat.

“I couldn’t find any,” she sighed.

“No?”

“No, they’re too fast. Maybe next time.”