If I had to play one more time, I would have hemorrhaged from my tear ducts. Every single time I played Chutes and Ladders, I landed on the chute that brought me to the bottom of the board while my opponent swiftly moved on to victory. It became the family joke: Mom sucks at children’s board games.
Unable to live with that reputation and in support of my physical and mental wellbeing we decided to teach the children to play Texas Hold’Em, a game not known for its near death experiences.
So I thought.
After we educated the kids the basic concepts of poker, we brought out the chips and began to play tournaments.
It was a little rocky at first. Nathanael tried to go “all in” with every hand. Elly still thought a flush had something to do with the toilet. Logan folded if anyone raised the bet regardless of the cards in his hand. Eventually we worked out some of the kinks and began to get serious.
Nathanael is incapable of maintaining a poker face. He wears his cards on his sleeve. When dealt a good hand, the child giggles and holds the cards to his lips; our cue to fold. However, we eventually discovered that his idea of a good hand is when he gets a six (because it is his age) and a nine (because it is Isaiah’s age) or other such nonsense.
One time I got dealt pocket aces and was certain to win since I was playing against Nathanael. Certain, that is, for a whole three seconds. Giggle Boy won with a pair of sixes in the flop to match the six in his hands. I HAD POCKET ACES AND LOST TO SOMEONE WHO STILL THINKS RED-BLACK-RED-BLACK-RED IS A WINNING COMBINATION!
A new facial tick was born.
You must understand that percentiles and statistics mean nothing in this family. Neither does skill. Probability leans the way of unskilled minors who spend half their time, unfocused, watching “Ed, Ed and Eddie” while at the table. It is the damnedest thing!
There is no bluffing these children. I held a deuce and an eight in my hand, off suit even, but I was low in chips and thought I could pull off a bluff and double up my cache. I was bold in my betting. I laughed aloud while they kept matching my raises and said things like “Do you really want to do this Elly? I’m just saying…I’d hate to see you lose like this.” She went all in, flopped a high straight on the river and left me applying pressure to my eyes in order to avert a massive loss of blood while she did her happy dance.
ARRRGH!
I would love to see Phil Hellmuth sit down at my kitchen table and play my brood. I am quite certain that after just a few hands, he would mutter a string of profanities and tie a tourniquet around his neck until lack of oxygen made him forget the whole event.
Then I would challenge him to a nice, long game of Chutes and Ladders.
I bet my entire remaining chip that I would win.
