Meet Your Match


I can’t beat Kate at Memory. I really can’t. It all started out as good clean fun. When she was four, she got a Memory game for her birthday: Princess edition. We’d set it up on the carpet and test our skills. I’d act all cocky, “I’m gonna wi-in!” She’d giggle back, “Never!” and then I’d retort with something like, “You’re going DOWN!”

I’d throw the game, let her win, and watch her twitter and fly around the house like Nike, goddess of victory. Ahhhh, those were the days….But then she started getting better…and better…and better! Until finally, she was unbeatable!

Yesterday, we found the game cleaning out the hall closet. It was go time. Time I finally showed her who was the Memory Master. Time she’d met her match. I had the eye of the tiger. No more mercy plays. I was in it to win!

She beat me five times in a row. No joke.

She coyly asked me why she was so much smarter than me. Ha ha. I carefully explained that she was smart because she sucked it all out of me! My body is the one that formed her clever brain. Of course creating 4 exceptional brains would have side effects on the donor. Where did she think brains come from? (I’m sure having a brilliant father did play a small role…)

She skipped off quite satisfied with her new and intact cerebellum. That’s when I turned to Luke.

“Luke, wanna learn how to play this matching game?”


There’s nothing like playing Memory with a fired up three year old.

“Okay, buddy boy! I was taking it easy on you! Best out of three!”


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