I love playing games. I love children. I despise playing games with children.
By nature, I am a competitive person. No one who knows me well will argue with this statement. When it comes to playing, I want to win. That is my objective. Mix this with competition with a child, and tears will naturally ensue.
When my daughter asks me to sit down and play Go Fish, I am more than happy to drop everything to do so. Halfway through the game, I realize this is a big mistake. I'm out for blood, and she's my victim. She yells at me that I'm changing the rules just so I can win. Unfortunately, I can't turn it off. I tell myself that not letting her win is teaching her a life lesson. It is, isn't it?
Candyland? Tears.
Old Maid? Tears.
Guess Who? Tears.
Chutes and Ladders? Tears.
Crazy Eights? Tears.
Perfection? Tears.
Connect Four? Tears.
As Christmas approaches, I realize that there are some hidden opportunities to cry beneath that wrapping paper. I'm only hoping that one of those games is one where she is better than I am. I'm tired of wiping the tears when I beat her over and over again.
Ahhh.....I think I have finally remembered the one game she shall win: Memory. After three kids, I have none. I see some success in her future. I have a feeling that her tears will turn into sunshine, and for this, my competitive nature will subside.....just this once.
