Look at these people. I mean, really. Could there be a more quintessential American family? Look how much fun they are having. I appreciate Milton Bradley’s packaging. I want to sit around the table with my family and have this much fun. Subliminal messaging: You, too, can be the perfect American family and have unadulterated fun if you play board games.
I’m buying it– hook, line and sinker. I want us to be the perfect American family. “Kids, let’s play a board game!”
This year the Easter Bunny brought Carson a particularly fun game: 5 Second Rule. The premise of the game is that within five seconds, you have to name three of whatever is on the calling card: three breeds of dogs, three types of ice cream toppings, three professional golfers. Sounds easy? It’s not!
Last night, Carson desperately wanted a family game night. We had played games on Sunday at my brother’s house, and she had the itch. Tom was apathetic, but she looked so convincing with her sad eyes and boo-boo lip, I thought we could indulge her and at least play a few rounds.
Maggie and Lizzie were occupied on Webkinz, so it was just the three of us. We each took a pile of cards. I asked Tom; Tom asked Carson; Carson asked me. We went round and round, laughing the whole time.
“Carson, name three things in a family room.”
“T.V. Couch….Ahhhhhhh.” The timer ran out.
“Carson, We are in the family room! Look around!” She slapped her forehead for not thinking of that one on her own.
“Tom, name three professional golfers.”
“Tiger Woods, Ben Affleck….” We all burst into laughter. The timer ran out.
“I don’t even think he plays golf in movies,” I finally was able to get out.
Without motion sensors, nunchuks, steering wheels, or keyboards, we were having fun.
Back to Tom. Carson had the timer in her hand ready to flip.
“Tom, name three things that relieve stress.”
Tom watched as Carson’s hand flipped the timer and the balls started to swirl to the end of the tube.
As quickly as it popped out of his mouth Carson buried her head into the floor. I buried my face in my shirt. Awkward? Embarrassing? Humiliating? Try mortifying! No child wants anything to do with that word and her parents: Don’t mention it. Don’t talk about it. Don’t do it! Period!
I almost died laughing– figuratively and literally. I didn’t think I would be able to look Carson in the face and I could not breathe, which was affecting the pressure change in my head.
I pulled my face out of my shirt. Carson was still buried in the floor. Luckily, she was shaking with laughter.
I looked at Tom who looked shocked. “How could you say that,” I mouthed at him.
“Well it does,” he mouthed back in defense.
Just then, Carson sat up, smiling and crimson herself. God love her; she had the audacity to disdainfully say, “Nice, Dad. Nice.”
We could not end the game fast enough.