go fish

“Mama? Do you have an ass?” ONE smiled at me.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Go fish,” I said. “And it’s an Ace, Pea.”

“Right, an Ace.” She lifted the top card. “I got a Beethoven!”

“Pea, I don’t think…well…let me see that.”

She hesitated and handed me the card. “You don’t get to keep him, do you?”

“I don’t sweetie. And this is a Jack. He does look a little like Beethoven, though. And next time, don’t tell me what card you picked, okay?”

“Okay, Mama! I like this game. I think I’m gonna win again!”

*

As a child, you learn that cheating is bad. That you should never do it. But you also find that you LOVE to win.

This leads to one of childhood’s first moral dilemmas. Around the time you learn all the rules, you learn that winning is waaaaay better than losing. In fact, there’s no such thing as second place.

1st Place=Winner

2nd Place=LOSERVILLE

And none of this happy “everyone’s a winner” shit. Kids aren’t stupid. They know it’s a load of crap. No one likes to be the loser, but it’s important to lose sometimes because that makes winning mean something.

And they lOvE LOVE lOvE winning.

It’s just that sometimes winning requires a little assistance.

A little peek.

A little switch-a-roo.

But as the “adult” you find that cheating at a game is a little more complicated. It’s no longer as simple as wrong. It’s actually a three-part program, complete with moral dilemmas and additional guilt.

Cheating to Build Their Excitement For the Game

Say what you want about the “c” word, you know if the kid loses the first few games, that could be it. And games are important. It’s something to do together as a family and something they can do without you later. (The “later” part is of utmost importance.)

So often, you have to very carefully let them win. This form of cheating is precise and requires more concentration than most adults can usually offer, or have the patience for.

However, when it’s just the two of you, it’s rather easy. Especially because try as they might, very few three-year-olds can fan out the cards in their small hands.  You might find it helpful to slide the nearest laundry basket across the floor to give them a little “privacy” while they ponder and plot their next move. (Be sure to check the basket first, though. No matter how old and mature you think you are, there’s still something kinda ick about staring at a mountain of your dad’s jockey’s. I’m sorry, there just is.)

Once the child is confident about the game and can maneuver him/herself without your help, the cheating stops. If for no other reason, it’s boring as hell to lose every game.

Cheating to Make This Blessed Game End

Seriously, how many times can one child get the Mister Mint card when they’ve already passed Princess Frostine? And how many times can the adult get sent back past Gramma Nut? Three, dammit. And for crying out loud, why did they have to make one Chute go from the second-to-last row all the way back to the beginning of the game? There are 100 squares on that board…

Look, I’m not saying it’s a good idea to cheat all the time, but sometimes it’s necessary. Your last few braincells are at stake. And it’s not like you’re trying to win. You don’t care. The game simply must end. If you need to justify it to yourself, just say that the child needs this win to be pleasant. And you need them to be pleasant until your S.O. gets home. Which, according to the clock, is still 4 hours away…

But for the love of all that is good, don’t get caught. At three/four they are still easy to distract. You can slip a Lolly card to the top of the pile, or insist that the spinner got stuck. They are always eager to agree with the Milton Bradley brand of injustice. (Of course this backfires later when they try to do this themselves, but worry about that then.)

“What about a Queen, Mama? Do you have one?”

“Go fish.”

“She looks worried. Why is she worried?”

“Maybe palace life isn’t what she expected.” I said.

“Maybe she needs a King. Can I go fish for a King?”

“Well, you can pick up the next card, but you can’t dig through for the one you want.”

“How about a marshmallow? I think maybe a marshmallow would make her feel better. Does Nanny have any?” She got up and went to the pantry. An ideal time to replace the top card with a Queen. If I were so inclined…

Cheating Because You’re Still Competitive

No, I’ve never cheated my kid out of a game. That would be pathetic.

However, I did cheat that smack-talking 9 year-old I used to babysit.

I defend this behavior without guilt because babysitters are given very little power over their wards. Creative passive-aggressive game playing is an art. The single form of retribution available to most adults. And besides, it was Electronic Battleship. And that game rules.

Of course it’s different with your actual child. I mean, I’m guessing it is. If she starts smack-talking and I can’t beat her honestly, I might have to dig deep into old habits to, you know, teach her a lesson.

“Mama? Do you have a horse?”

“No, Pea. And you don’t either.”

“Yes I do.” She showed me her card.

I recognized my husband’s handwriting immediately, but it took a moment to remember why he drew on the card.

I flipped through the rest of the deck.

It was missing a King of Spades.

I thought about him. How we fell in love over cards. And not just because he let me win from time to time, either. (Although that helped.) There just wasn’t much to do in the winter when we were college-poor and spending Christmas break at my parents’ house.

So we played cards. Lots and lots of cards.

This led to the moral dilemmas. Am I teaching her to cheat on life? On family? Am I opening the gateway to serious cheating later? And why does parenting lend itself so completely to obsessing?

Time to do what a guilt-ridden mother does best: overcompensate with too much truth on a completely different subject as soon as it presents itself.

“Mama, do you have an ass?”

“No Pea, I don’t. And chances are, when you grow up and have kids, you won’t either.”

Tags: cards, children, go fish, grandparents, love, memories