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Sometimes I take the easy way out when it comes to my kids. I know deep down I shouldn’t but I do.
It happened only the other day.
I had Mayfair. The dice rolled and I just knew as that little car drive along the cardboard street it was headed to disaster. When he landed on it I thought to myself just don’t say a word.
There that little car sat while I held my tongue. Silently praying he wouldn’t notice exactly how much he owed me. Onwards he passed to Go, collecting his $200 jubilant that he was beating me.
Often it’s just easier that way.
The funny thing is I have no qualms about beating my eldest son – he’s eight and I happily throw in a ‘gherkins’ (180 points) to his ‘gory’ (8 points) when he and I are battling it out at scrabble.
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