"Family Game Night" That sounds so idyllic, doesn't it? Conjures images of contented adults gathered around a table, gleeful children perched upon their parents' laps. Maybe there's hot cocoa, or a plate of cookies. Perry Como croons in the background...
Some things, (right up there with read-alouds and "quiet time") don't work out quite that way, though. The whole Family Game Night thing has gone a little differently for us...
It started off when we had the lack of foresight to have our children more than 9.5 months apart. This pretty much ensures that they will not be able to play the same standard games, simultaneously. Ever.
And on the odd, totally freak opportunity that their skills come within a level of magnitude that might allow something like
CandyLand or
Chutes and Ladders to be a possibility for play, it'll then be a sure bet that their tastes will vary so wildly we'll never manage to get a consensus on which game to play. Ever. (Which doesn't really hurt our feelings, as we're not big board game players, Zorak and I.)
Cards? Did someone mention cards? Kill us now. Zorak and I are not card players. We both come from families of card players. They can do that for hours, speaking their foreign language of tricks and passes and liquor and internal organs*. We don't get it. Didn't get the gene. Don't have it in us to cultivate the desire. The boys got it. They got it, bad. So, in order not to be completely awful parents, we've taught the boys one card game: solitaire. (But hey, we have enough decks of cards that they can all play at the same time! That counts, doesn't it?) Random family members who felt the need to "share" the joy of other card games, games that require we play, too, have been written out of the will. (Such that it is, I know, not a big slap on the wrist. But it could be, okay? It could be.)
Still, the Rockwell-esque imagery of Family Game Night haunts us. We get caught up in the oily, painted goodness of Americana, rapidly forgetting that somebody ate the cheese pieces to Mousetrap, that Scrabble's no fun if you can't spell or read yet, that Jenga *will* drive the eldest insane and the smallest to tears, and that at some point, someone's gonna take it personally. When the call gets too strong to ignore, much like it does with my twice-annual attempt to keep my toenails painted, and Zorak's occasional wild foray into follicular maintenance (he grows a beard once every couple of years), we fire up the jukebox, break out the cookie plate, and try for game night.
It's not all lost, really. Some of our experiments have been a bit self-defeating. Some have left scars that the boys will have to dip into their college/therapy accounts to deal with. But not too deeply. In all, I think, we've found some workable, enjoyable things. Mostly, what we've realized over the years is that the block is the build-up, the planning, the need to make Family Game Night something that might need to be capitalized. Sometimes, it's just the fun of doing it together.
So while we don't have official game nights, we do, on occasion, get a wild hair and decide to go for it after supper. It's not always neat and tidy. It's not really even a big deal, as deals go. But the kids love it. We love seeing them love it. I think, second only to spur-of-the-moment desserts, a quick game after supper is one of the best bang-for-the-buck family activities we can offer. It really is a nice way to end the day, and we never regret doing it.
Some of the games we've found particularly adaptable to various ages and temperaments:
Charades - we really like to play charades with the boys. Actually, we like to sit there and laugh until the tears soak our shirts while the boys try to figure out the answer. As the boys get older, they've begun to catch on that repeating the same exact motion none of us could identify the first time, varying only your facial expression as your frustration over our idiocy mounts, isn't really going to work. That has both improved the game for everyone, and cut back on the inner dialogue Zorak and I keep going in our heads - the one that makes us laugh until we cry. Probably a good thing, all around.
Pictionary - or, for us cheap folks, pictures-drawn-on-a-dry-erase-board and random-made-up-words (we do have the game, with the box and the little pencils and all, but the dry erase is so stinkin' handy for this). This one isn't so much fun for the literalist in the family, but the rest of the brood has a really good sense of humor about it all. We can usually play this one for an hour before anybody overloads.
Mumbly Peg - because you know it just can't be all Victorian, all the time, right?
(I'm KIDDING! But that is an interesting link. I had no idea there was so much to the game. And I'm not telling the boys, either.)
Boggle - yes, Boggle. You'd think, since Scrabble can be such a joy-sucking excursion with two kids who can't spell and one who is just now getting the hang of it, that Boggle would be on the Nix-it List, but no. The kids love it. We play House Rules, and everybody joins in. Adults can't use words of less than four letters. Kids can use any words they can find. We cut some slack on spelling for new readers, but not much, and they get up to speed pretty quickly.
Smidge loves to play along with us. He mostly copies letters from the box and presents his paper to Zorak at the end of each round for a point tally. Zorak gets into doing this, and gives Smidge enthusiastic feedback and various points for his efforts. 9/16 of a point, or 3/8 of a point. Smidge made a most impressive string of letters tonight, for which he was rewarded with a score of "one point three repitend". Oh, the giddy, giddy joy of getting such a score!
EmBaby loves to shake the box, turn the timer (sometimes she runs off with the timer, but we're usually thankful for the extra few minutes to find more words, so nobody complains terribly), and help me write. It's important to keep spare pencils on hand if you're going to play with Em, because nobody feels bad for you when you try to claim that you got spanked on that round for lack of a writing utensil.
We don't have to do it like everybody else does. We've just got to get in there and find a way that works for us. Then do it. And enjoy it. (Life, not necessarily games. But it could be games, too.) Sometimes, it really is that simple. I cling to that knowledge.
And in the meantime, the boys are counting down the days until somebody will come play cards with them. Anybody? Any takers?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
*gin and hearts
I'm thinking this, also, may have had some bearing on the overal condition of the fabric...
