So, Henry and I are obsessed with a game called Qwirkle. If you don’t have it, and you have kids over the age of 6, get it.
The only issue I have with Qwirkle is that I’m not terribly good at it.
At least not as good as Henry.
Who’s 8.
Sometimes, after we’ve finished with Qwirkle, Henry is feeling really proud of himself (since he typically scores in excess of 5 times the number of points I scored), and suggests we play chess.
Which I know isn’t a good idea.
But I go along with it anyway because it’s my job to feel utterly and completely idiotic so that his self esteem can be as high as possible.
So we play chess.
And I hear phrases such as, “You have to look around, Mom,” “Mom, that’s not a good move,” and “Give up yet?” over and over again.
That is, until I hear, “Checkmate, Mom.”
My competitive streak kicked into gear yesterday and after being whooped at both aforementioned games, I said, “I have something for you Henry that I think might be challenging.”
“What?” he groaned.
“Sudoku.”
“Who?”
I presented him with his first Sudoku puzzle, and I sat down to get to work on my first.
“Done.”
“Henry, you just started. You can’t be done.”
“I’m done. I put all the numbers in the boxes.”
“Okay, but are they in the right boxes? Is there only one number 1, 2, and so on in each row horizontally and vertically?”
“I don’t know. But it looks good to me. I’m going outside.”
Hm.
7 hours later, I still hadn’t finished mine. But I’m going to, dammit. I’m going to.
