I am always posting Ryan stories, but Ian too has his moments of silliness. I guess the whole rice thing proved that once and for all. But, periodically, Ian gets it in his head that we should have “family” time. His answer to this is that we should play cards. Yesterday was such a time.
“Cribbage?” I suggested. An intellectual card game, I like it.
“No, let’s play Rummy.” Apparently Ian wasn’t feeling very intellectual.
“I hate Rummy. War?” I countered.
“K. I’ll just have one card.” He thumbed through the deck and found the ace of diamonds.
Clearly, he lost. This seemed like a no-brainer to me, but I am a 53 year old woman and not an 18 year old boy. I don’t think I was cocky like that when I was 18. I could have been, but I don’t think so. I used to play cribbage for shots. And I usually won, but that was skill, not luck. War is the luck of the draw and if you have only 1 card, the odds aren’t in your favor.
“Crazy eights?” he suggested.
He lost again, and again, and a third time. I acquiesced and we played Rummy, which I haven’t played in years, and he lost at that too. Twice.
“You should quit, Ian.” Ryan interjected, relishing a moment to look smarter than Ian.
“Cribbage?” I suggested.
“No, let’s plat 5 card draw.” He was starting to sound a little surly. He dealt. I took two cards–that didn’t help.
I had nothing in my hand, ace high. And he lost anyway.
“Really? Even when you have nothing, I lose? How are you doing that? The cards cheat!”
He is tenacious, I have to give him that. It is clear to me why young men go off to war – they persist against all odds, driving forward blindly against a superior (or at least luckier) opponent. He accused me of cheating, even though he had dealt every hand. He said it jokingly. The whole thing had taken on a comical tone.
I smiled patiently, “Cribbage?”
“No!” he was almost whining.
“Chicken. I’m not even trying, I’m in the eagle chatroom while we’re playing.” I had grown up in a household of four kids–and two card playing parents. My dad had poker buddies. Everyone got a fresh deck of cards in their stocking at Christmas. I was playing cards with adults in smoke filled rooms by the time I was four or five. Ian was out gunned.
Ryan joined in and we played two more rounds of Rummy. I won the first. And by won, I mean I had 155 points to their combined 150. Ian and I tied for the second. It wasn’t a loss; I quit playing. He seemed satisfied.
It was like Ian’s personal Vietnam…thoroughly trounced repeatedly, and then satisfied with a draw. Yup, it is clear why it is young men who go to war. I think today, I will compromise a round of rummy for a round of cribbage. Cribbage is a less messy game. Although, I’m not sure Ian will be interested in any family time anytime soon.
Word Count: 528