One of Bart’s Father’s Day presents was a Monopoly game. The boys were very excited at the prospect of a shiny new game and begged to play it after dessert on Father’s Day. Dessert, by the way, was a delicious homemade brownie ice cream sundae. The kids agreed that it was far better than the wretched dinner I forced down them (asked Shay: “Why do we always have to eat what dad likes just because it’s Father’s Day?”).
Back to Monopoly. Neither Aidan nor Kyra had taken naps that afternoon. None of the three kids had eaten much dinner. And, of course, it was a school day the next day. Then there’s the fact that the box very clearly states “ages 8 and up,” but none of our kids are eight yet. All the signs indicated that we should give them all baths and put them to bed. But they begged! So, naturally – stupidly – we relented.
We opened the box and an argument immediately ensued. Who would get to use the car game piece? Who would get the battleship? Who should choose first, anyway? The oldest? The youngest? The dad? Once that argument was settled (Shay was the car; Aidan, the cannon – which makes a lot of sense if you know them), I began to explain the rules. But when Kyra saw me perusing the rules, she realized I was no longer focusing on her. So she pulled herself up and started fussing as only a just-turned-one year-old can do. I sat her in my lap and tried to divvy up the money while she attempted to eat the hotels.
Finally it was time to start the game. All went well until Aidan had his turn. He wanted to buy Virginia Avenue, of course, but he didn’t want to give up his money. We coaxed it out of him and moved on, while he sat cross-armed and grumpy. On his very next turn, he landed on Chance and got to proceed directly to “Go,” collecting $200 in the process. Now, you might think that winning $200 would be considered a positive outcome of a dice roll. Well, as far as he was concerned, moving forward to “Go” looked exactly like moving backward to the starting point, which happened to be that very same square. He wanted none of it and threw a fit. Kyra decided to throw a sympathy fit, so now two out of three were bawling. But Shay was just figuring it out. He wanted to keep playing.
Bart and I came to our senses and yelled to Shay over the din that we’d have to stop for the night after a mere ten minutes. Cue Shay’s massive eruption of whininess.
It truly was an unforgettable Father’s Day.