Checkmate

I was getting a latte at my neighborhood coffee shop, and noticed a man playing chess with his daughter. She looked like she was maybe four years old... playing chess. OMG! I watched to make sure she wasn’t just messing with the horsey, or whatever it is you call that chess piece. She was actually making moves and listening to her dad. I’ve been told that chess is a game of military strategy, which would explain why I have never had the least bit of interest in playing. If I were in a military strategy meeting, I’m sure I would be more concerned about what everybody was going to wear than where to place men and bombs. Colors and fabric can be so important in life! Plus, they don’t explode. I suspect military strategy lives in the same area of the brain as math. That part of my brain is like pudding. Or maybe custard, which is the food equivalent of a thought problem (I dislike them both). Trust me. When I was four, I was not playing chess. Checkers were probably too advanced for me at that age. I think my focus back then was learning to stand on my head. I was skinny, so it was probably easy. I also enjoyed hanging by my knees from the top bar of our swing set. Maybe being upside down did something to my brain. I wish I would have thought of that during my battles in any math class I struggled with. It would have helped me to feel I was overcoming a handicap, instead of thinking I was just a numbskull. My kids attended chess club in elementary school. I’m not sure my daughter embraced the game, but I think my son went more than once. It made me feel dumb just to walk into the cafeteria after chess club. All those kids were learning such a mysterious game. I would have felt the same had they been assembling a nuclear bomb. So, to that little girl at the coffee shop... You go girl! Do battle with the boys but don’t forget about your fabulous wardrobe. You can do both. Checkmate!