You sit there sweating bullets. You’re not worried you’ll lose, maybe there’s a hint of worry you’ll accidentally win. You’re just trying to keep up, playing a game with this young ball of spin-cycle lightning we commonly refer to as a kid.
Whether it’s your kid or not is beside the point. It’s a KID! You’re doing your best to figure out what game you’re even playing at a certain point. There’s that look, though. Those pursed lips. Those crinkled brows. A look of concentration punctuated with a tongue jabbed thoughtfully into a cheek. All these things say you’re doomed. You have to lose!
You can’t be the one to teach this little munchkin that Chutes and Ladders ends in broken dreams; that Hungry Hungry Hippos will devour their hopes of ever being a winner! Okay. Maybe it’s not that dramatic. But then again, gosh it just really feels that dramatic.
Oh, the look on their face when they win! When they scream “Bingo!” or “I sank your battleship!” or “Check mate!” and you lose? You win. So hard.
Sure, they can learn to lose another day. Today, they win like KINGS!
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