The Dilemma

Pretty competitive. Always have been. Don't like to lose. Who does? Why should someone ever be okay with losing? But, if you do lose, lose with some class. Sore losers are one thing I like less than losing.

Which brings us to...





Wii Bowling








Had a great weekend. A couple of bars, golf, casino, bbqs, shuffleboard... all good things. I spent most of my Memorial Day with the family and my niece... and her new Wii. Now, the first time I played with her, it was pretty easy. I was having a conversation with my mom and I'll flail my wrist like Lance from N'Sync and roll a terrible game, she'd win, it was all good.

Back to yesterday.

So we start playing and I'm talking to my mom and I'm noticing that she is thrashing EVERYONE. My ephemeral sense of pride disapates when I realize that she is truly my niece and she's freaking heckling me as I'm getting ready to roll.

I stop my mom in the middle of her diatribe about the duvet covers I simply must have in my alleged new home and I start to bring it. A few minutes later and I'm back in scoring distance. She's starting to get worried and I have an internal monologue.

What the hell am I thinking? She's SEVEN! I wasn't REALLY going to beat her, was I?
You know... it's really a disservice to her to let her win. You should let her stand on her own merits?
That's rather convenient.
So you're saying that you don't have confidence in her beating you?
No, I mean that she's seven. Of course I should beat her.
Prove it.

Shit.


I end up letting her win (no, really, I let her win) and we try to get her to eat her dinner in the kitchen a few minutes later. We try to bribe her with ice cream and candy. I look in the cubboards for additional ammunition and what do I see?





















This will SURELY get her to eat.
Or...

I furtively place one in my pocket and mosey out to the living room. I wait for her to start eating and I unwrap the gooey deliciousness. I ready to take a bite and I feel something watching me. Sitting next to me on the couch is my dad, eying my treat.

Sigh.

I try to bust it in half but really it's about 1/3 to 2/3. I pause for an instant, wondering which piece to offer him. I get sad and stuff the 1/3 in my mouth and toss him the other piece. ... weak.



p.s. there were like 6 more in the box, so don't hate. =P