THE CRYING GAME

Tuck to us: "I know! Let's play a game. I will choose...wisely."

Tuck walked out of his room with the game Trouble, also known as "The Crying Game" in our house. As soon as we saw what he had chosen, Chris and I both groaned in unison like two little kids who were just told to finish our brussel sprouts. For crying out loud, of all the games in all the world, this is the one he chose? The Trouble box summed it up best with their little motto, "There's trouble...in that bubble." They weren't kidding! It was R2D2 Trouble to boot. This meant every time you popped that bubble full of trouble, it was accompanied by the R2D2 sounds. Cute right? Sure, but after the 297th pop (I'm not exaggerating) you were ready to pull the batteries out...or your hair.


I wasted no time confirming, "Are you sure you want to play this? Remember last time?" Chris backed up my question with, "We just played that one. Why don't we choose another game?" Tuck was unwavering. Plus, he had already told Captain SpinsTooMuch, so now we were definitely locked in. We gave into his choice and told the kids they should start setting it up. Chris poured some water and I took some Ibuprofen. Then it began. 


Immediately Mags began to assign everyone's colors. "Mama's yellow, Daddy's green, Tuck's red and I'm blue." Once Chris and I heard her say she was blue we both counted down, "3....2...1..."  (insert Tuck's scream here) Tuck jumped in with his usual, "Maaaaaaaaaaaaags, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I'm blue. You know that!" We heard Mags as she started to recite her dissertation of how she never got to be blue before and it wasn't fair. Tuck came back with his own dissertation and explained how blue was always his color in every single game they ever played in their whole entire life. I passed Chris the Ibuprofen and we went out into the living room. We distracted their battle of logic with "Hey, is the game set up yet? We can't play if it's not set up!"


Chris was like a ninja in his movements and quickly positioned the board so it suited everyone's needs. He told Mags that she had to be yellow because she was his ray of sunshine, or something like that. It worked. So we began to play. This game always takes FOREVER-EVER-EVER. Between the four game pieces that have to be freed from your home spot and R2D2's screech every time the bubble was popped, you had "edge of your sanity" excitement. Never mind  once your pieces are freed and on the board, there is a chance if someone landed on you that you were sent back to your home spot. To start all over again. This was where the game earned the name, "The Crying Game". Tuck hated to be sent back. Cried, moaned, yelled. Oh the injustice! 

So, after 20 minutes of the game being played, Tuck was crying,  Mags was on the floor making snow angels, and Chris was muttering under his breath. Me? I was busy cursing R2D2 for not popping the right numbers that would make the game be over. I was sure we said, "Mags, your turn to roll" about 604 times. Miraculously, we finished up. I was the victorious one. It was a fight to the finish at the end, which perked most of us up a bit. After 57 minutes of blood, sweat and tears it was over. Tuck congratulated me with a hug and Chris wasted no time packing up the game (and throwing it off the back deck). About that time, Mags sat up from her snow angel making session with a confused look on her face. 

"Is it my turn to roll?"