Right now, on this dreary Sunday afternoon, my husband is playing a board game with our daughter. It’s one Santa gave Saoirse for Christmas, because it was on sale and Santa thought it would be a good idea to stock up on some board games for our children, because even though Santa knows how much their mom really, really detests board games he also know how much she loves her children, so, to that extent, he thought it would be okay.
That and Santa possibly has a sick masochistic streak, because I really, really hate board games.
Isn’t that terrible? I really do hate them. It’s just so borrrrring, sitting there, and taking your turn, and having to wait for other people to push their little pieces around the board, until YAAAAYYY somebody wins can I go now?
I don’t know why I hate them so much. I do remember that as a kid I didn’t want to be bothered with anything indoors that wasn’t a book in my hands or music in my ears. Yeah, yeah, I was a trip. And I also can tell you that my dad and I always butted heads over activities like this because he would often try to offer me suggestions on how to improve, and I didn’t want suggestions, I just wanted to do it myself, dagnabit, can I go read my book now? So maybe there’s some deep-seated defiance rooted in there, for sure.
I have played games with Saoirse, and will continue to do so with both of our girls, because what else are you going to do with your young children on rainy days, other than make them watch Real Housewives of Orange County with you so you can explain that no, those women on TV are not monsters, it’s just what plastic surgery makes people look like, honey. But I am quick to suggest on an “inside day” that we do some cooking or baking instead, or yes, read a book together. And as I type this, I realize I should be playing with my husband and daughter, not volunteering to update the checkbook instead (yes, updating the checkbook. I told you I hate games).
She doesn’t mind. I don’t think he does, either. They’re chit-chattering back and forth, and David’s probably just grateful that he’s able to sit around without me reminding him that we need to do some yard work when the sun comes out. And me? Well, I’m about to go for a run. No, no, I don’t want to go for a run. I’m not really in the mood, and I haven’t been consistent with working out (hardeeharsigh), so this isn’t going to be fun. Of course, David and SK just finished the Richard Scarry “Busytown” game and have moved on to Angelina Ballerina’s “Dance with Me,” so it looks like I’m off to go find my running shoes.
I’m outta here, folks. Don’t judge me. I’ll be back when they’re reading some books.