The exhausted dad: The Big Game of the new year

My kids know almost nothing about football. Even when they see football-related images on television (pads and helmets, players lining up on a field facing each other, an actual football), at least one of my kids will ask, “Hey is this something to do with football?”

We’re a baseball family, OK? When parents don’t care about football, then the kids probably won’t care either.

Recently, my 5-year-old son likes to talk about “The Big Game,” a phrase, I’m told, most relates to football. It started a few days after Christmas, when he rushed from upstairs and into the kitchen scrambling to refill his water cup.

“I’ve got to hurry, Dad!” he said. “I don’t want to miss the Big Game!”

I followed him as he sprinted back downstairs. He wanted to watch two of his older siblings start a game of chess.

My 7-year-old daughter took an online chess class for a week over the summer. She enjoyed the game on the computer, so for Christmas, we bought her a physical chess board and set. Her two older siblings immediately wanted to learn how to play, and her 5-year-old brother didn’t want to miss out on any of the action either.

“It’s a Big Game!”

As far as watching other people play games and sports, chess is just about as interesting as anything else, I guess. Sure, there’s a lot of waiting and thinking in-between moves, but there’s a lot of waiting in-between football plays and baseball pitches too, and does anybody ever score a goal playing soccer? I’m honestly asking.

After a couple of days of watching his siblings, the 5-year-old decided he could also learn to play. Not from me, of course. Because Dad can’t play chess.

Mom has tried to teach Dad how to play, and Dad just doesn’t have the patience for it. I’m a Trivial Pursuit guy. Deal me into any card game on the planet. Just don’t ask me what that rook does. Bishop is just an X-Men character as far as I’m concerned.

Up until recently, not caring about chess had zero impact on my life. But ever since my wife taught the 5-year-old the basics of the game, I’m the grown adult in a house who doesn’t a “children’s game.”

“I understand chess,” I tell the children. “I simply choose not to play chess…”

I can tolerate gentle ribbing from my three older children. But it’s a special kind of embarrassing to be teased by a kindergartner.

“Dad?” he asks me. “Do you want to play CHEST? Oh yeah, you don’t know how to play Chest!”

That’s right. He calls the game “Chest.” Kid can’t even say the correct word and he’s the one making fun of me.

“This is what the horse does,” he tells me as he makes a correct “Chest” move against a sibling.

“And this is what the castle does.”

Uh huh. Great.

“Chest is easy! It’s a Big Game!”

Lots of big talk for someone who can’t read.

For many parents, such embarrassment might be enough to inspire them to learn the stupid game and wipe the floor with the kindergartner just to show him who’s boss. But I’m a stubborn guy. Always have been. “I choose not to” is how I avoided playing sports my entire life. I can hold out longer than most.

Plus his checkers game is absolute garbage. I’m calling out “King Me” five times before he even gets one piece across the board. Where’s all the trash talk now, kid?

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Tyler Wilson is a freelance writer, full-time student and parent to four kids, ages 5-11. He is tired. He can be reached at twilson@cdapress.com.