Want to Play a Game?

I knew the decision to buy Nora Jane a chess set for her birthday would be one I'd later regret.  And, as predicted, I did.  At first.

For, you see, I am not a gamer.  I have never really liked playing board games.  I don't mind playing

cards, rummy from time to time, (especially when I'm whippin' Dave) and I am awesome at Twister, unless I'm playing Dave.  But at six-foot-seven he yields a slight advantage.   As for board games, though, they have never been my thing.  I find them boring.  And all those teeny tiny pieces.  All that set up.   And then, after all that work, the game is over.  Unless-God forbid--you've been suckered into playing Monopoly or Life.  Those games NEVER end.  Ever!  Once you've selected your little silver shoe, or dog, or wheelbarrow, (what do any of these things have to do with the acquisition of property?) carefully laid out your cash, you might as well forget about any other plans you had for the day, or evening, or the next day.  Plans that may include eating, bathing, or sleeping, for they aren't going to happen.  You are stuck there.  

I think my game aversion has more to do with my intelligence, though, (or lack thereof) than anything else.  Games require smarts.  Smarts that I don't have, apparently.  I'm not a strategist. I have a hard time looking at the board and all its colored pieces, and predicting the outcome of my actions.  If I move here, then I can do this.... If I move there, my opponent can kill me.... It just doesn't work.  My eyes look at a game board and see just that: a game board complete with squares and colored pieces, knights, pawns.  I don't know how many times, during the game of Checkers, I've uttered the words, "Oh my God, I didn't even SEE that!"   Given the choice, I'd prefer to just throw the dice and see where I land.  If it happens to send me to jail without passing Go, and without collecting $200.00, well that's fine.  I'm happy to hang out on the bunk in my cell and read magazines while my opponents scoop up Park Place and Board Walk for ridiculously over-market prices.

Thus, unless Lady Luck is watching down on me, I am not usually a big winner.  But I don't let this bring me down.  If it's Game Night at The Larson's and I'm the first one "out," I happily trade in my game piece for my book and whisper, later suckers!

So, as you can imagine, I have never seen myself as a chess player.  Chess players are uber-smart.  They can ponder a move for hours.  Why they've even been known to walk away from a game--before it's even over--to go and do something silly like eat, or sleep, and then return at a later date!  Who wants to come back to a game that wasn't moving along in the first place? 

Nora Jane does.  For she does not share my disdain for board games.  At. All.  And as much as I'd like to run for the hills every time she asks me to play Checkers, or Battleship, or--God Forbid--Mousetrap, she could  play these games All. Day. Long.   

"The Hills," however, are a long way from my house; so I stay.  And I play. Because that's what we mums do.  We play with our children.  Because play is important.  It teaches life skills.  Skills such as sharing, taking turns, good sportsmanship (no one likes a sore loser).  And we play with our children because we love them.  But mostly because it's important.  And as I know so well, it also demonstrates how, in order to be a good friend, we sometimes have to play things that we don't enjoy.  Thus, I have been a very good friend to my children over the years.   I've endured hours of Candy Land and Chutes and Ladders, the two most boring games ever.  I have Connected Four.  I have discovered Professor Plum, with the candlestick, in the library, and I have traveled down the roads of Life.  Yet I have never won this game.  For there is no winning.  Whether I choose the college path or the career route.  Because these decisions do not matter.  All that matters is paying my mortgage.  A mortgage on a Tudor Mansion that I can't afford, because I spend all day driving around in a pastel colored car with a set of blue and pink twins instead of going to my job as a salesperson.  What kind of life is that?  But then Nora declares, "don't worry Mom.  You'll be out of debt on your next turn."  A very unrealistic one, apparently.  

Luckily, though, I'm not called upon to play board games as much any more.  Oh Nora still enjoys them, but she has become very interested in playing games on the computer.  She is completely enthralled with "Minecraft."  And she couldn't be happier than when she's building her own Minecraft world, complete with square sheep (that actually baa).  She's even constructed a library for me, with a pond outside, so when I visit her in this virtual world I have a peaceful place to read while dipping my toes.  While I really try to limit her computer time, preferring her to play outside in the real world, I  am grateful for this game.  For like Monopoly, it goes on and on and on.  I can prepare an entire dinner, read half a book, or scrub the bathrooms before she even looks up from the computer screen and wonders if she's going to be fed today.   Thus, I thought I'd finally found my replacement.  

But no.  Nora Jane's classroom is filled with a bunch of little smarty pants.  A bunch of little smarty pants who like to congregate after math time and play chess.  (Maybe this is why I don't enjoy games, I hate math)  I don't even like to balance my checkbook.  Ask Dave.  No, don't.  Forget I even said that.  

So it was only a matter of time until Nora started asking for a chess set of her own.  At first, I simply responded with the standard, "can't you just play with your friends at school?"  I know.  Nice mommy.    When that didn't work, she came up with a new game. A game entitled "How Long Will it Take to Get What I Want?" A game wherein I was her only opponent.  A game she never tired of playing.  In short, she wore me down.   

So as I stood in Target, staring at the game-filled shelves, I knew that we would meet on the battlefield.  I knew as I grabbed that darn box and headed to the cash register that my game-playing days weren't over yet.  Or were they?  I was formulating a plan.  Maybe I'm a bit of a strategist after all.

My brilliant plan would require the help of Meredith, Nora Jane's BFF and one of the above mentioned smarty-pants.  This sweet, unknowing, victim would simply spend the night after Nora's birthday party thereby providing her with a worthy opponent and endless hours of fun-filled chess playing.  And did she ever. Those girls played chess in the living room, they played outside on the patio, they played on the kitchen table, and they played in Nora's bedroom.  Until, eventually, they'd "had enough"  and decided to "do art."

Unfortunately, my inability to predict the consequences of my actions, once again, backfired. Meredith doesn't live here.  Meredith has a home of her own, complete with siblings and parents who probably play chess with her whenever she asks them to.  Thus, come Sunday, she departed, leaving Nora Jane and her lonely chess set with only me for comfort.  Dave was busy laying tiles in our TV room.  So when I saw Nora Jane look to the chess board, I silently willed him to ask me for a helping hand, or a sandwich, or to drive to Ace Hardware and pick up something for him.  Anything--but he didn't.  So, instead, I high-tailed it into the kitchen to get dinner started.

But I wasn't quick enough.  "Mom, will you PLEASE play chess with me?"  Her voice was already pleading.  She knows me too well.  So I responded, "sure," all the while hoping she'd lose patience and give up on me while I carefully got dinner ready.  No such luck.  She was ready to wait it out.  She was ready for battle.  So while I prepared the chicken, she prepared the board.

When dinner was, finally, in the oven, she explained the rules to me and we began.  Considering we were both novices, there were a lot of questions, pauses for explanation,  and several consultations with the instructions.  It wasn't long until I had acquired a good portion of her army.  And I was happy to see that I wasn't the only one saying "Oh, I didn't even SEE that!"  And then the game was over.  And I'd WON!  And, yes, I realize I only beat a nine-year-old girl.  But that nine-year-old girl has been playing for a few months.  While I also realize this may indicate that my intelligence is on the same level as my nine-year-old daughter's, I prefer to think she is just advanced for her age.

Either way, it was fun.  So we played again.  Then our neighbor came over and asked to play, so I was released from duty.  Until the next morning, when we played over oatmeal.  And then again yesterday, when I asked if she wanted to play.  

Maybe I'm not a game-hater after all.  Maybe I can learn something new and enjoy it.  Maybe buying this chess set wasn't the horrible decision I thought it'd be.  Maybe  I just can't stand it when my kids whine.  Yep, that's it.

Keep on keeping on-
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