WORD UP

Today when I was settling in at the computer, I discovered on the floor a wayward “P” tile from my Scrabble game. I don’t know how in the world it got there…perhaps from the eruption of the nearby walk-in closet where I stash old board games, among other “valuables.”

Scrabble is probably my all-time favorite board game, although our long-ago family entertainment nights also included Sorry, Clue, and Monopoly. My closest sibling in age, Big Brother Beans, was hard-pressed to find a way to cheat in Scrabble, which may have been why I preferred it over the other games. It required a bit of skill, more than just rolling dice, so the playing field was equalized. In fact, Beans rarely played Scrabble, probably because he feared I could whip up on him with my amazing command of the letters.

Now, he was his most devious when playing Monopoly--since he always insisted upon being the banker. Mr. Sticky Fingers would reward himself with extra money every time he’d passed GO. He would hide his stolen stash underneath the board, and just when it looked like he was about to go bankrupt, hordes of $500.00 bills would miraculously emerge to pad his account. I’d get pissed off, and before you knew it houses, hotels, Community Chest/Chance cards, and the entire banker’s cash drawer were flying across the room.

Probably 10-15 years ago, Beans, Mama Bore, and I had a 3-way Scrabble battle going on at his place. He would challenge practically every move we made, while making up his own wacky rules and creating his own non-existent words. Mom finally got so irritated with him that she ejected him from the game and banned him from family Scrabble competition for life. Yes, Beans was officially de-lettered. He’s never bothered hiring a lawyer to appeal her ruling, nor has he sought Scrabble amnesty with some other family. It’s just as well. Everyone knows that mothers ALWAYS have the last…word!