I was speaking to a few friends about the possibility of hosting a group family board game night. What better way to unwind from our hectic schedules than to have a night where the adults can feel like kids again, the teenagers can be reminded that they have some “kid” traits while letting the younger children have their time to shine.
Within minutes, my friends and I started sharing the names of those classic board games that we enjoyed as children. Clue, Monopoly, Operation, Scrabble...the list went on and on.
The conversation even headed into all of us admitting that we were still pretty competitive, even with those child-like games. There are no moral victories or mercy losses.We remain in it to win it.
“Well, I know my bunch is still competitive when it comes to board games,” I said. “When Elsie was a little girl, she flipped an entire table over because she lost a round of Candyland.”
The laughter erupted from my group of friends, and I realized how it must have sounded. But I remember that game night vividly.
It started off as a good idea, but I had no idea that family game night would transform into an emotional rollercoaster.
I think it may just be the Patterson family curse to have every wholesome intention to turn into a scene from a Griswold movie.
In an effort to bond, we decided we would play a board game with the kids. Our choice…the beloved Candyland. Gathering around the kitchen table, we geared up to enter a land of rainbow colors, ice cream palaces and licorice slips.
With our daughter Elsie taking the lead, the game started off well. Jase was just happy to land on the color he wanted. And big brother James put away his pride to play what he calls a “girl game.”
There were a few meltdowns, negotiations and the regular antics that come playing a board game. Jase could have cared less if he won or lost. He was just happy to be playing. But James and Elsie were out to get one another.
But a slight mishap in the game landing Elsie back to almost the beginning of the course led to a meltdown…a meltdown of the century.
Elsie immediately began stomping her feet about her bad luck, accusing others (mainly James) of cheating. And when James soon won…that was it.
“This game is over,” Elsie wailed like a banshee from an Irish lore.
Before I knew it, Elsie flipped the entire Candyland board, table and all, over, convinced and vocally sharing her theory that James was cheating.
Stomping her feet, she ran to her bedroom and slammed the door, refusing to speak to anyone.
“What just happened,” James asked, confused.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I replied. “Why can’t we just play a game like a normal family?”
Jason made his way to Elsie’s room only to discover her in a corner with her face buried into her knees. She was hysterical over Candyland…a game that has brought joy to families for generations.
In my day, you just lost. My mother and grandparents showed no mercy when it came to board games. I was not instantly going to win because I was a kid. My own Paw Paw slammed an Uno card down so hard in victory, the table collapsed.
Jason and I have taken that same approach with our kids. We teach them how to lose by not allowing them to “win” every time. But on this occasion, how did losing send our daughter into an emotional breakdown that could merit therapy in her future?
Elsie reappeared from her room of anguish with a wet face from tears and a chip on her shoulder. She refused to play the rest of the night.
Maybe next time, we’ll settle for Operation. It seems safer pulling plastic parts out of man versus strolling down a peppermint lane.
Candyland may be sweet, but for Elsie…it’s a bitter pill to swallow.
