Winner Winner Chicken Dinner!

As you well know by now, I have three boys so between them, their mother, and myself the competition level in the house is always hovering around the out of control mark. You might think the right thing to do is make sure everyone 'wins' and that there be more of an emphasis put on how you play the game than on the outcome. Wrong, if you think this way you obviously haven't been to our house. We talk about those other things but it is in a cynical way inferring that those things apply to others and not to ourselves.

I know this is a pretty brutal viewpoint, especially for our four year old, but to quote the famous Red Auerbach, legendary coach of the Boston Celtics, "Show me a good loser, and I will show you a loser." My mother is to blame for most of this as she was the one who taught me how to play every sport I know how to play today. She didn't mind beating up on her eight year old son in anything: Scrabble, Golf, Ping-Pong, Cribbage, Monopoly, Sorry, Crazy Eights, Double Solitaire, Bowling, mowing the lawn, pulling weeds, whatever! If you are going to compete, then you need to try to win. Growing up I lost all the time, and didn't share my mother's stance on competition. Then I got a little older and would beat her at something, look out, she would be furious but try to hide it, and it felt great. Talk about addiction, who doesn't want that high again and again? As I starting winning more than I lost with her I started to see what kind of damage losing inflicts on another person, and who wants to feel like that. When I started beating her regularly at ping-pong I decided that I would play left handed to make it more of a match, you could feel the electricity building on her side of the table. Don't you dare, she told me, not only was it an insult but twice as devastating if she lost, and she did. I think I know what heroin addicts feel now. What a rush! This has followed me around my whole life, even when I go golfing with friends and we are not 'keeping' score, I'm keeping score. I'm chasing that feeling any chance I get.

I believe it might be genetic now that I think about it. My mother gave it to me and now, like the blond hair and blue eyes, I pass it on to my heirs. Lucky ducks. Never is this more evident than when we arrive home from anywhere. We live on a corner lot and actually have two separate driveways. My wife gets the large driveway closest to the front door, and I, of course, park around the corner. So when we pull into 'Dad's' driveway we all spill out grabbing backpacks, coats, water bottles and it is a mad dash to the front door. I of course dominate the first few years as they are barely big enough to get out of the truck without a rope and pulley. My catch phrase as I touch the door first is, "Winner, winner, chicken dinner!" The boys are deflated of course as I let them think they might win but hurdle the basketball hoop in the nick of time to chalk up another win. Now somewhere at school the order has been modified. I actually stay behind to help my youngest out of the truck still almost beating the older boys but not quite and the oldest one says,"Winner, winner, chicken dinner!", to which the middle replies, "No, first is the worst second is the best!" Interesting turn of events to say the least. Now the focus has been to let me get there first,(like they had a choice), then try to be second.

Now it gets good, one day I win then oldest then the middle and my oldest shouts,"First is the worst, second is the best!", to which my middle son replies "No, first is the worst, second is the best, but third gets the treasure chest." Great, now none of us know where to finish, I'm not going to lie to you, getting the treasure chest sounds pretty good to me. Which leads us up to this evening. We pull up and avalanche out, I help the youngest out and as we see the middle one round the house his backpack spills and he is mortified. He has to pick up his homework or Mom will kill him, the youngest is beaming with joy as we blow by the fumbler, third and the treasure chest is finally in his grasp. We get to the door and see the oldest standing there proudly waiting for the middle one to finally get there to drop his triumphant bomb that goes like this, "First is the worst, second is the best, third gets the treasure chest, but fourth wears the lady's dress!" This sets off screams of disgust, allegations of cheating, excuses of how it happened, and protests that we were the ones who actually wore ladies dresses. The three of us continue to giggle, laugh and point which in turn makes the middle son slap me in the back and scream, "Now DAD wears the lady's dress!" This is so funny I laugh out loud and tag my oldest telling him he is the new owner of the lady's dress and I love that color on him. It is now on and out of control, we chase each other around the yard and through the house transferring the lady's dress to the nearest person.

I blame my mother for this, but also deeply thank her.
Thanks Mom, you're the best.