My daughter-in-law came to visit me yesterday. After I fixed us brunch, she helped me with some chores, and then we sat down to played cards.
I absolutely adore playing games, with the exception of charades. For whatever reason, I am terrible at charades.
I love playing cards most of all, dice games next, then games of strategy, followed by word games, and then any/all types of board games.
That being said, I hate playing games of any kind with my husband. Why? Simply because Steve plays to beat me.
He doesn't play to win, and he doesn't purposely try to beat anyone else. In fact, he will attempt to lose if playing one of his extended family members.
My hubby is always competing with me.
We've, actually I have had many conversations with The Hubster about this subject and it always comes down to the same thing. He plays to beat me.
"Where is the joy of playing if you are so concentrated on beating me?" I ask.
"Why would I let you win?" says He of limited reasoning. Does he have any idea how thin the ice is that he is treading on?
"Why do you always let your sister and her husband win when we play Risk?" I counter.
"Well," drawls The Hubster, "They are family!"
"Then what am I?" I challenge. "Chopped liver?"
Steve's mouth drops open. "You don't look like chopped liver at all! You look like..."
I throw my hands up in the air and yell, "Stop! I don't want to hear it!"
I then leave the room, upset and frustrated.
Grabbing my phone, I sit down to play a nice, quiet game of Sudoku set on medium so I can finish that same night.
Numbers are my friends. They are consistent, they don't try to conquer me, and they really truly count.
Unlike some in our household, lol.