When you imagine Saturday afternoons spent hangin' at home with the fam, you think plush carpet, you think barefooted kids sitting criss-cross applesauce, you think CANDYLAND. Hours and hours of drawing from that stack of cards rife with mystery: Will it be one square of blue, a single orange, maybe a double red!! or maybe even an express pass to Queen Frostine?!?!?
You don't think Guilt, Shame, Remorse, Haunted for Life, do you?
My mom gave us a wicked awesome Candyland game for Christmas. The set came in a big clear backpack and the gameboard is actually a rug, the gamepieces are big jolly gingerbread men, and the cards are perfect for my wee non-readers. So far, we've been making progress in piquing Baby Girl's interest in the game. And by that I mean she has successfully ripped the card box in half, scattered the color cards all across the board, and decided her gamepiece was going to live permanently on the purple square in the middle of the board. Gingerbread squatter.
But no matter.
I'm not going to feel all sore that our little lady is outright rejecting Candylandia. She'll learn the magic of advancing in the same direction as other players along the board soon enough.
I just hope she doesn't learn the crafty ways of an older sister who once upon a time would rig the cards, such that if the turns of a two player game were carefully calculated, a certain unsuspecting little sister would advance to a position of nearly tasting Hansel and Gretel-like the King Kandy nirvana and then, upon that last draw, produced a one-way ticket way on back to PLUMPY.
I can still see her lip start to quiver. I got P-p-p-p-plumpy.
Schadenfreude at its best.
I was such an evil, mean-spirited sister.
I am going to have to let my kids win every time to hedge this guilt.
In the meantime, I'll be hangin' on the Candy Land rug with these little plumpsters: