Who knew playing “Cars 2 Memory” could be so enlightening. This week, Dylan got “Cars 2 Memory,” a belated birthday present from a friend who wasn’t able to come to his party.
In the Cars 2 version of this classic game, when you make a match you put the pair of cards in a cardboard grandstand that overlooks a cardboard race track. When you make a match, you also move a Lightning McQueen or Francesco race car ahead one square on the race track. Whichever car reaches the finish line first by making the most matches wins the race and the game. The effect of the grandstand is that all of the cars get to watch the race.
On Friday morning, the game scene in my house went something like this: When it was Dylan’s turn, he would flip one card over and then peek under as many other cards as possible (i.e.cheat) before choosing a second card to flip over. Or, he would flip over one card and then ask me where the match was. “Where’s the other Nigel Gearsley, Mommy?” “Where’s the other Luigi, Mommy?” “Where’s the other Mater, Mommy?” Riley would cry if he took a turn and didn’t make a match, and he would periodically snatch the race cars and bring them to another room just for the fun of it. If I made a match, Dylan would cry because he wanted to win. If anyone of us made a match, Dylan and Riley would fight over who got to put the cards in the grandstand. I sipped my coffee, hoped my head wouldn’t explode, and thought about how nice it would be to lock myself in the bathroom.
About ten minutes into the madness, Mike walked in the room and I said, “I’m losing precious minutes of my life playing this game right now.”
He looked at me and said, “These are the precious minutes of your life.”
He was right. (I hate when he’s right.)
The Runaway Mama by Jen Gregory 