You gotta know when to hold 'em

Being back at an operational base (translation: we are doing an active, real-world mission here, not a training mission) means long hours for Joe, and an added need for intentionality when it comes to carving out family time during the week.
So, on Friday, as we were tossing around ideas for our family game night, it was discovered that NONE (yes, that means ZERO!) of the kids knew how to play the game that serves as a right of passage and initiation in this family-- Tripoley-- and we knew the situation had to be rectified.  Immediately.


And so began an hours long tutorial of the procedures surrounding the felted board, the progression of play, and the accumulation of chips.  I don't care who you are-- young or old-- there is something VERY empowering about sitting behind a stack of plastic chips that keeps growing and growing.  You get that card player swagger about you.  You talk a big talk.  You throw chips in the pot even when you only have a pair of twos, just to perfect your poker face.  You are a winner at the big boy table.

After a few rounds, the kids caught on to the strategy of the game, and suddenly, they were winning rounds without us letting them.  Yes, folks, you heard me right.  I actually started to TRY and beat my kids.  All gentle parenting techniques went out the window. I channeled my great-grandmother, Gigi, who even into her 100s was able to beat the pants off the entire family at this beloved (and occasionally cut-throat) game. This was Tripoley after all.  And there's nothing wrong with a little healthy family competition, right?