This week-end Rose and I have played Go Fish, Backgammon, Checkers, and the egg game where you run around the table with a yellow rubber egg under your chin and say cock-a-doodle-doo. I have no problem with the egg game. It’s silly enough to negate most strategy and competitiveness.

Not so the others.

I’m a pretty anti-competitive games kind of gal. I don’t want winners and losers. I’d rather play at hug ‘o war. So, I don’t tie myself in knots wanting to win the game because I love to win, but not wanting to attack because I am playing against a five year old for heaven’s sake and one whose feelings I really don’t want to hurt, but still when she pounces on my piece wanting to retaliate. . . Nope, very few problems with that.

My problem is I’m not very good at games. I used to play backgammon all the time, but I’ve forgotten the rules, let alone the strategies. I want us to play close matches where we both get turns at winning. Rose will usually follow my advice. So, I have the fun of playing both sides of the board, but I’ve got to give advice that will actually work.

I didn’t mean to win this afternoon, but she took it fine, no scowls or tears. Tonight, right before bath time, she won. And she said, “Ha ha!” Can I get the inflection right here? She burst out with a taunt, a I’m better than you so there exclamation.

She’s told me that at school whenever they play a competitive game, they always shake hands at the end and say, “Good game.” I gently reminded her of that, and her face completely crumpled. She started crying. She hadn’t meant to say it. She was saying it to herself. She felt so sad.

We snuggled. She recovered. I’m glad it made her sad to be hurtful.