From Nerd to Dictator to Petty Squabbler

When I was in high school it was just becoming popular to make the students work in groups.  And oh, how I hated it.  That’s because I was the nerdy kid whom no one wanted in their group.  The teacher would say, “Get into groups of 4” and there was always that last group that had only three, so they were forced to take me into their group.  I could tell that they had mixed feelings about the whole thing.  They didn’t want the nerd in their group, but at least I was a brainy nerd.  The frustrating thing for me, and for them, was that while I was brainy, I was also too painfully shy to offer my brilliant ideas to the group.

After a lovely 15 years away from any sort of excruciating formal education, I went to college in my early 30’s.  By now the whole “group work” thing was in full swing, but this time around, I wasn’t shy anymore.  My young classmates didn’t stand a chance pitted against my 12 years of experience working in groups with crazy coworkers, plus three years of wrangling a Strong Willed Child.  They meekly obeyed me and did whatever I told them to do.

Unfortunately, none of my experiences working with groups has prepared me to play games on the iPad with my children.  We’ve been playing Myst, which is game where you wander around figuring out how to make various machines work.  It’s not designed as a group game, but we’re playing it as a group, offering each other suggestions on what to do next.

And, oh the ranting and ravings and wailing and high blood pressure that was in my house tonight.  Playing Myst has been one of the most miserable experiences of the past 10 years.  Darling Husband finally had to announce from his end of the couch, “I can’t take it anymore!  If you guys don’t settle down—all of you (pointedly looking in my direction)–I will turn off the game.”

Actually, it’s not playing Myst with my children that’s the problem.  It’s playing Myst with Boy10.  The boy has my exact same personality.  We both want to be in charge and we’re both convinced we’re right about everything.  Of course, we’re wrong half the time and then have to apologize to everyone for our bad attitudes.  Oh, the misery!

Darling Husband and Boy7 don’t care about being in charge or being right and they amuse themselves by making fun of Boy10 and I behind our backs.  I think Darling Husband was considering taking Boy7 out for a nice quiet ice cream and letting Boy10 and I duke it out, but he was afraid to leave the iPad alone and unprotected with the two of us.


Picture of the day.

My last pile of dishes to be handweashed!  The dishweasher arrives tomorrow!

Only it doesn’t.  The guy called at 8:55 tonight to tell me there’s a problem and it won’t be delivered until Thursday. Sigh.

So, picture of the day:  My next-to-last pile of dishes to be handweashed.

(See this post for an explanation of the misspelling of dishweasher.)


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