Friday, April 07, 2006

Chutes and Ladders

I want to inform you from the onset that this is not a philosophical post, and that there will be no analogies to how life is like the game of Chutes and Ladders. If that is what you are looking for, find another blog. What you have found is the ranting of a really sore loser. Yes. I just lost a marathon game of Chutes and Ladders. Little Miss was the early leader, mowing the lawn so she could climb the ladder to the circus, eating her vegetables so she could grow tall, and then rescuing the cat from the tree so she could climb the GIANT ladder to the square where she is adored by the said cat. I was the tortoise in this game, slowly making my way to the top by avoiding chutes AND ladders. So it was a great surprise when I found myself planting flowers, climbing a moderate sized ladder toward the top, where I was elegantly arranging them in a vase. A few spins later, I am on square 99, just one spin from the winner's circle. Little Miss has pulled the cat's tail, and is in the depths of despair, somewhere in the 70s. I spin, get a 5, and am THE WINNER! Or not. Because Little Miss, in her know-it-all voice that she inherited from yours truly, informs me that I must get a 1 to win. I check the rules and find she is right. What kind of sadistic game company thinks it needs to PROLONG an interminable game like Chutes and Ladders by making an exact-number-to-win rule? DARN THEM!!! DARN THEM TO HECK, I SAY!!! So, I am patiently (and then not so patiently) spinning for the needed 1. Little Miss pulls the cat's tail again. And again. And again. Down the chute. Down. Down. Down. I use my 7th grade math skills to realize that the laws of probability have no influence in my life as I wait for that 1. Then, Little Miss, the unrepentant cat-tail-puller, lands on square 80, wins the pet show, and climbs the ladder to the winner's circle and I LOST! What is WITH this game? Like someone who repeatedly PULLS A CAT'S TAIL is then going to WIN THE FREAKING PET SHOW? What is this teaching Little Miss, huh? That you don't have to be kind to pets? That you can use them for your own purposes, like chattel? That you can abuse them by constantly pulling their tails, and they will still be all nice and pretty at the pet show, bringing you glory and praise? Huh? WHAT IS THIS TEACHING HER? Besides the fact that Mommy is scary and a sore loser, I mean. But she probably already knew that.


At 3:10 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

For some strange reason I decided to check out your Blog this afternoon and lo and behold (said with triumphant heralding in the background) you again provided us insight into the world of Tootie Bubblenose. (OOPS - I forgot I was supposed to use your pseudonym online!!!)

Rant all you want about how unfair it is that your own flesh and blood kicked your little Kelly butt. The truth is that she knows Milton Bradley personally. It’s all about who you know, not how kind you are to small animals. You’re into the whole political paradigm thing. Me thinkst thou were, perchance, beaten at thy game by the Princess Zippy (Little Miss’ real name)!


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