Winning and Losing

Call me Mother of the Year.

So Peanut and I have been enjoying his last official day of Spring Break, and we've been reading books and playing Candyland. Endless Candyland. And I've been attempting to teach my son a few important lessons in sportsmanship.

Not surprisingly, Peanut is a fiercely competitive little boy. He's figured out from Thomas the Tank Engine that everyone likes to win. Therefore, Boy Wonder must win every game he plays against Mommy (or really anyone, I think). Since life doesn't exactly work that way, I got treated to a few spectacular temper tantrums. At least he wasn't hitting.

It should be said that I don't allow cheating. Even though this game is boring to the point of tears, there's no way I'm going to allow myself to hurry it along. For one thing, I think that would give Peanut the wrong idea. For another, well, I'm reveling in my time with my son. Besides, seriously, how does one cheat at Candyland without getting caught?

I'm not sure how much of my explanation of why we can't always win sank in today. I know there's some adults who still haven't figured that out. Plus, I'm never sure how much Peanut actually listens before his attention goes elsewhere. But I tried. And I'm still trying. I want my son to understand that fair play should be treasured, that sore losers don't often get playing partners, and that winning really isn't everything. But he's four. And he's got a long way before that kind of understanding sinks in.

So for now, I'll keep reminding him that we don't always win when we want to. And that Mommy and Daddy love him no matter what. And screaming and kicking seriously scares Doggy Luke, so maybe if he stops, Doggy will come back and be petted.

Call me Mother of the Year.