Unbored is a great book for families and is full of projects and games and ideas. I love this book and yet I regret learning one of its games: The Game. It’s super annoying and if you’re winning, you’d never know. There is no pleasure in The Game, except maybe for discovering other people out in the world who are similarly tortured by it. (Hey, that sounds like another one of our main hobbies.)
Rules of the game:
1. You are always playing The Game, even if you don’t realize it.
2. If you think of The Game, you lose.
3. Whenever you lose The Game, you say out loud to whoever is around, “I’ve lost The Game.” This causes everyone who hears you to lose as well, or—worst (best?) case scenario—learn of the existence of The Game (and immediately lose.)
As of this evening, unbeknownst to me and any players in my vicinity, I’d been winning The Game for at least a few months. What made me think of (i.e. lose) The Game today: I was snug as a bug with Jack to my left, Grover on my lap, and Bubs on my right. I was tired, cozy, and happy to sit down in an end-of-day-so-happy-to-sit-down way. Sitting. Dog. Kids. Shampoo smell. Nice.
That shampoo smell is what started my defeat: Bubs had just taken a shower. This made me ask him if he’d plugged back in to his pump. He had done so. And that’s when I lost The Game. Because the pump made me think of the Dexcom, and that was in another room. And frankly I wished I hadn’t—however useful it is/grateful I should be—thought of it. And that made me think of The Game. And that made me lose. So I lost The Game and lost the right to sit in a giant beanbag with my shampoo-smelling children and okay-smelling dog.
Thinking of a misplaced Dexcom receiver is like an expert-level version of losing The Game, because it’s not just annoying, it also becomes a whole ethical thing of, well, you know. When we got the receiver: 68 mg/dL, diagonal down, Juicy Juice. I guess I’m glad I lost the game.