Game Time

I'm competitive. Sure, sure, when you invite us over we will smile and
play an innocent game of spades and eat snacks and make small talk.  You might even think I'm not really into the game. But know, on the inside, all I am thinking about is winning. Whipping you, in fact.

So today, at Chamblee's Christmas party, the kids played musical chairs. I stood in the back, setting up the snacks, and watched out of the corner of my eye as she made it through round after round. Smirk.

That's my girl.

It came down to the last two and then. she lost. To be fair, the little punk was walking so close to the chair he might as well have already been sitting in it. But, you know, who noticed...

My heart sank a little. Oh. She's going to be so disappointed. I would have to rush over and comfort her in her loss. Poor, sweet girl.

And then, it happened. She was the first one to clap for the boy who won. Her face was so full of joy for him and she was happy to have been able to play the game at all.
She did. not. care.

I learned from my three year old today.

So. Here I sit. Breastfeeding upstairs as my in laws prepare to have a holiday game night. They're clueless. It's about to go down.

Will I congratulate them if ((huge if)) they beat me?

Verdict's out...

Until Next Time,
The Guff