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I declare I’m sick of War already

Submitted by on Monday, 13 April 2009 No Comment

card_sharkTwo important caveats I conveniently forgot as I impulsively grabbed a deck of cards during a rushed Easter basket shopping trip last week:

** The son of a man who happily watches poker tournaments for hours on end has a 50 percent chance of carrying the gene that predicts success at games of chance. Yes, I hear you, Dad. Poker is not chance; it’s skill. At least it is when you’re winning.

** Any game that drove me nuts as a child is likely to do the same as an adult. Except it will be worse now, because I can’t throw a hissy, hurl my cards in the air and pout, “That’s it! I quit!” Well, I could, but that wouldn’t be modeling good behavior, would it?

So I’m stuck. Stuck playing “War,” the game that simply won’t end, for hours on end. Or so it seems. Our longest session so far has been “only” 45 minutes.Or maybe it was 45 days.

I try to look on the bright side and consider the “academics” the game is reinforcing.

Big Guy’s mastered quickly calculating which number is bigger. Boots can identify the numbers and most letters at random, though he still insists that “8″ is a “B.” I think that confusion’s understandable when you’re not quite 4. And if we should move to Vegas or Reno, knowing A, K, Q and J should be all the skills he needs to be ready for kindergarten.

Still, playing cards – particularly such a monotonous game as War – with a 5-year-old budding shark like Big Guy makes me look back longingly to the annoying days of hide and seek. Yep. He’s going to be the guy in the casino who refuses to get up from the table for days.

“One more game! Please, just one more game!”

I hate it when he remembers to say “please.”

I also hate that his victory dance would be enough to draw NCAA sanctions if performed by any college football team.

“I win! I win!” he’ll cheer, alternately shaking his booty and rolling his belly. Where did he learn that move?

Part of my annoyance is my frustration at losing most of the time. I know, I know. It’s a silly game of chance. But if it’s truly chance, how does Big Guy manage to win so consistently, even when he’s not stacking the deck? And why is he so bent on winning that at age 5 he’s already trying to stack the deck?

I’ll blame it all on his dad’s genes. I just shut up, “shuggle” the cards and play for another 45 minutes. Or maybe 45 hours.

Copyright 2009 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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