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The sad hand of fate

October 31, 2011

This afternoon Jen introduced Ruby, our granddaughter, just turned four years old, to the game of Sorry. You’ve probably played this board game. Everyone gets 4 plastic pieces, you march around the board toward home, propelled by the draw of cards.


The board game Sorry!

Trouble is you don’t always win, of course. Sometimes you’re thrown back against the bulwark, or over the rampart, by the card you’re dealt.

Not long after we started, I drew a Sorry card, a potent demonstration of the fickle finger of fate. This card entitles me to take a piece out of my starting area and place it on a place occupied by any opponent. So I took one of Ruby’s pieces, put it back at the start, and replaced it with a piece of my own.

Instant infant fury! She pouted, shouted no! Then put her piece back where it was and threw my usurper on the floor!

This combined with other irregularities too trivial to mention induced me to retire from the game, but Jen marched bravely on. She wasn’t doing very well, having been Sorried back to the start on two of her pieces. But when Jen drew a Sorry card and returned the favor, what then? Plenty of wailing, thrashing, and gnashing of teeth!

I grabbed the darling in my arms and, even while laughing, explained how the rules of the game are not necessarily fair, not logical, and often cruel. But therein lies the hand of fate. The fickle finger thereof.

When Jen yielded up her Sorry pawn, doing a grandma’s tender duty, I knew it was the end of the game, the end of the rope, for all.

… to be continued … throughout childhood and development …


From → family, fate, logic, will

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