The Heisman trophy winner of Tic-Tac-Toe

I am very competitive.  I think I’ve mentioned that here before.  I’ve narrowed down the reason why to my father.  He played games with us when we were kids but he flat out refused to “let” us win.  His philosophy, as taught to him by his grandfathers, was that our victory would be sweeter when we finally did win on our own merits.  I am certain this is true.  When you map out your own strategy and claim a win solely by yourself with no quarter given by your opponent, it is a powerful moment.  Mine came with checkers.

Granted it takes a child longer to finally win a game that way, but it makes you a fighter.  It also makes you a good loser.  You get used it.  You realize that it’s not the end of the world when you do lose.  You are forced to try harder, to concentrate, and to really learn the fundamentals of a game.  Hopefully it also teaches you to win gracefully too, although honestly, I may have been absent for that particular lesson.

Of course, none of that can really explain why I took such glee in beating the pants off my five year old at tic-tac-toe at a Mexican restaurant tonight. 

He and his sister received the dreaded colorable placemats from the hostess when we went out to grab dinner tonight.  He sat next to me in the booth – that was probably his first mistake.  Towards the end of the meal he begged me to play the game with him.  Using the green Crayon, he marked off his first X.  I put my O in the bottom corner.  He played again and so did I, marking my O in the next box setting myself up for a win OR for him to block me.  He gripped his crayon tightly and set the blunted point in the wrong box.

“Is that really where you want to go?”

“Yep,” he replied with confidence.

“OK,” I replied with skepticism.  I took the crayon and marked my O and drew a victory line straight through my marks with a dark slash.  “I win!”

He puffed out a little grunt of frustration but moved right to the next pre-drawn board.  “Again.”  He put his X in the corner.

I put mine in the opposite one.  Next he chose a random box and filled in his mark.  After several more turns, I had set myself up for the sure win.  No matter where he tried to block me there was another “win” spot.  He stared at the board for a minute, perplexed.

“Where you gonna go?” I prodded.

“I don’t know.” He laughed nervously.  “Daddy, where should I go?”

His father looked at the board and then at me with a glance that told me I was mean.  Mean schmean – little dude’s gotta learn.

“Where you gonna go?” I asked again.  The boy kept hesitating.  He finally picked a spot and I won again with undisguised pleasure.

Deep sigh from the boy.  “Once more.”  And he marked the board.

Again, I was ready to win, but he had a chance this time to make the game a draw.  It all came down to this placement of his X.

“There?” I asked with dubious warning.  “Have you really looked at his options?”

He hesitated for a few extra seconds and finally chose a spot.

“Ooooooooh, dude,” I said with a sweeping movement from my Crayon.  “You chose unwisely!”

Fortunately the boy was too busy laughing at his insane mother to be too upset at my hat trick. 

My Honey just looked at me with flabbergasted disdain.  “Aren’t you proud of yourself.”

“Ye-e-e-e-e-e-e-es,” I agreed, cackling away like Renfield.

I don’t know if any of that will teach him to be a good fighter, competitor, or loser, but I’ll bet he doesn’t sit next to me at dinner next time.

Either way – I’m a WINNER!