Milton Bradley Is a Chump

For better or worse—and according to a double-blind, independent, third-party study—Ian’s usually pretty quick on the take. Usually. For most things. It’s wonderful when we want him to learn and understand; less so when we’re trying to be D-I-S-C-R-E-E-T, or think he’s not listening.

He’s good at grasping mechanical concepts: doorknobs, latches, toys with levers and switches that even I don’t understand. He also does well with language, and figuring out what we mean, even if he doesn’t understand all the words.

Last week I scolded him for losing the cap to my flash drive. He loves playing with anything that isn’t his, and this stupid cap is one of his favorites. I asked him where he’d put it, and he pointed to his lunchbox* sitting on top of the fridge. ‘It’s in there.’ I’d put away the lunchbox earlier, so knew it couldn’t’ve been. Each time I asked, he pointed to the lunchbox, and I got more and more upset.

Frustrated with my refusal to grasp the situation, Ian turned to Kelly. He pointed at the lunchbox and said, ‘In the peanut cup.’ He mimed putting something into a cup with his hands. Kelly opened the lunchbox, and pulled out a small, tupperware container that we use for Ian’s peantus. Inside was the cap. (It turned out Kelly had taken down the lunchbox after I’d put it away, at which point Ian placed said cup inside.)

So the kid knows what he’s talking about.

But then there’s Chutes & Ladders. Or Candyland. Or any other game with rules. The box may say ‘Ages 3 & Up’, but playing Chutes & Ladders with Ian is like teaching goldfish to mambo.

Ian knows that two red squares means he should move his piece two red squares. He just doesn’t care. Why move two red squares when there’s purple or blue or a lollypop? Why move to that green square when that green square is so much farther? Why take one card when there are so many of them? For that matter, why should you have a turn, anyway? I’m not done playing yet. And I like your piece better, anyway. Here, I’ll just play with both of them.

Candyland is where Ian’s impatience overtakes his intelligence.

He’s a little better with Chutes & Ladders, but that’s only because he has the spinny-thingy to distract him. It also helps that he likes to count. But he’d rather spend the game going up ladders and down chutes. Really, wouldn’t we all? (This is where Kelly would remind me that, if I’ll recall, I was the one having trouble moving my piece in the right direction.)

We played Candyland again last night, with the caveat that I would only play if he followed the rules, and listened to what I said. ‘Okay, Daddy.’ And he did. He took one card, and moved two red squares. He let me take my turn. He did not move straight to the Rainbow Bridge, or knock my piece over while making an explosion sound. He even thanked me for playing.

Look out, Bobby Fischer!

[* A Star Wars lunchbox featuring C-3PO and R2-D2, which he chose all by himself thank you very much.]

One Response

  1. Melissa
    Melissa at | | Reply

    LOL! That reminds me of trying to teach my twins to play those games when they were little. They thought they won Chutes and Ladders if they could somehow get to the space where you eat ice cream. Hee he hee.

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