I’m not the type of mom who believes in participation trophies, or not defining a clear winner. I think kids need to learn to lose because losing is a part of life, and there’s really nothing wrong with it. If anything, it should motivate you to practice more and try harder. There’s always room for improvement, and practice makes progress, therefore, there’s no reason at all to be a “sore loser”. Those are the things I teach in my household.
…aaaaaaaaaaand it seems that my kids missed the memo.
I loved board games before I had kids. I have so damn many of them that they’re overflowing in the front room of my house. I’d love to PLAY all of these games (I’d also love to put them away, but I digress), but every time I’ve tried since exploding children out of my uterus, it’s turned into madness. Screaming, whining, tantruming, sore loser-y madness. MY BELOVED BOARD GAMES!!! HOW COULD YOU?!
when my kids aren’t screaming family game night is a great time, and how can I deny such time spent with family without electronics and other crap? Simple answer: I CAN’T!
Confession: in order to keep family time moderately civil, I’ve started…. throwing games. Yep. I let my kids win from time to time. Don’t you judge me.
LOOK, sometimes, when we’re playing games, and I see the shit starting to go south, and their faces are starting to turn blood red, and I know they’re about to blast me and pretty much shit on the rest of the day because no matter how much I try to tell them losing ain’t no thang, it never sinks in, and it’s the end of the world, and perhaps that means I failed somewhere down the line, and maybe this is the longest run-on sentence in the history of this blog– I DON’T CARE, I THROW THE GAME. Everyone’s happy! I mean, there are equally as many times that I whoop their asses just to prove a point as I let them win, but that’s not the point. The point is that yes, occasionally I LET THEM WIN since they’ve always kinda sucked at games and can’t win on their own.
In my parenting world, it’s all about choosing my battles wisely. Sometimes, it ain’t worth it to teach them the lesson of losing. If that makes me shitty, so be it. But, again, my shitty parenting is not the point.
THE POINT is that I was sitting at the table playing tic-tac-toe with my seven year old, which I usually whoop his ass in (much to my delight and his utter dismay), when he beat me. Not just once, but three times. And not out of luck– the kid schooled me. Moments later, my husband got his ass whooped in a game of squares by our nine year old. And I started to realize, this has been happening more and more lately. We’re winning less and less, and not because we’re throwing the games. Not because we want to avoid tantrums. Not because we JUST WANT THE GAME TO END BECAUSE OMG IT’S TAKING SO FUCKING LONG I MIGHT ACTUALLY DIE AT THE DINING ROOM TABLE. But because they’re BETTER than us. Smarter. Sharper.
It’s finally happened. I’m finally to the point of parenthood where it’s truly all downhill from here. First it’s silly games. They’re already better than me at math. Next thing you know, they’ll be having to help me with computers and technology, and it won’t be long before they’re shipping me off to the old folks home because they don’t want to wipe my ass EVEN THOUGH I WIPED THEIRS FOR YEARS, THE FUCKING INGRATES.
I’m gonna need them to start throwing games so that I win to keep me from losing my shit.
Parenthood has officially come full circle.
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