My friend and editor Deb says we are supposed to play with our words, that it is their primary function after communicating. Well, this summer, my daughter, my husband, and I became hooked on a word game called Quiddler. Think scrabble mixed with gin-rummy. It was immediately apparent to Jessy how different I am from her Dad when it comes to games.
My husband plays games for one reason: To win. In Quiddler, he hovers over the dictionary proclaiming, “Yes, qanat is a word!” Granted, a gently sloping underground tunnel for irrigation purposes is more up his alley than mine, but the intensity for wining has got to be inborn.
I, on the other hand, let my own scores be damned. I end up helping everyone build a better list of words because I can’t stand to see a missed opportunity. “You have big and ten? What about that other e? Beignet!”
Even when I get serious, it’s hard to beat my daughter. She inherited both Steve’s love of winning and my love of words. Playing with the two of them is like a Great White feeding frenzy at a Red Lobster and the dictionary ends up looking like it was temporarily possessed.
Honestly, it just makes me want to run and hide in a qanat, with a beignet in my hand.
What have you been playing this summer?