Between a Rock and Park Place

I heard the question and my heart sank.

"Mom, can we play Mononpoly?"

"Sure." (They have to ask because it takes forever and consumes our dinner table.)

And then he asked in his sweetest, softest voice, "Will you play, too?"

As soon as it was out of his mouth, the other little voices chimed in with their cheers and pleas and it wasn't quiet and sweet and soft anymore.

Some of you when faced with a question like that may get all giddy and excited at the prospect of spending the afternoon with your children teaching them about money matters and math and life. And there are others who love the challenge and the charge of buying properites, charging rent and making people go bankrupt.

Me? I hear the words, "Will you play monopoly with us?" But what registers in my brain is something like, "Will you forget about the laundry and the dishes and the dust and the dirty bathrooms and spend an entire day sitting in a hard chair making sure a two-year-old doesn't wreck the game or swallow something he's not supposed to while trying to figure out this newer version where we use million dollar bills instead of hundreds. " Not the greatest response, I know. What can I say? I'm not a game player.

But in the brief moment when the chattering little voices calmed to wait for my answer, I heard another voice call to me. This voice reeled off all the reasons it was a really a good idea. "Someday they won't want you to play their games. The dirt and dishes will always be here. Is there really anything more important. It's a chance to make a memory. You've said no enough. Say yes for a change."

So after the voices battled in my head and I had made an argument for a quick game of yahtzee instead (and lost), I gave in. The dirt and dishes waited, and we made a memory. I love my boys. They really are a fun bunch, but I am worried about my oldest one's lust for money and power!