10/08 -- It’s long been said, I have no poker face. As it turns out, that particular fault is genetic.
Just as he drew a card, brother squealed, “I got it! I got it! I got it!” First loud and vigorous, then more as a mantra/sing-song as we each took our turn unable to stop his inevitable win: “I gawd it, I gawd it, I gawd it.” And believe me we were really trying to beat him. He’d already won way to many times in row as it was.
OK, fast forward to the next game, past a gentle reminder of strategy and maybe not wanting to tell others what cards you hold. He again draws a card. I have never, ever, not once seen such a ridiculously huge, proud smile. Accompanying the smile was the visible, physical restraint of a four-year old with such wondrous news it was taking his entire body to hold it in. He was wiggling with excitement, a boiling pot of water about to bust it’s lid. The kid was rattling. Ya, think he got the card? He won. Again. Damn.
So parents/grandma again offer more helpful advise on showing your hand. This time he draws the card and exalts, “That is the card I need and I’m gonna play it next.” Then when the adults have shown their exacerbation at the lost cause, he cries truly perplexed, “What, I didn’t say what card it was?!”
So, the kid’s mine. He just won’t be able to play poker.
