Last December, I finally got the kids a ping pong table for the basement. Ok, you got me, it wasn’t exactly for the kids, it was more for me. I love ping pong and always wanted a table.
So here I was, ping pong table in the basement and the family playing up a storm. It was a great idea as the boys would play ping pong more often than they played video games. I was the ping pong champion in the house and we would set up tournaments which I won handily. It was a given. I even beat our Chinese student! With his fancy Chinese-style serve, spins and all. Told you I was good.
All that changed last week. Over the last few months, I noticed that my 8 and 10 year olds were winning the odd game but chalked it up to my lack of focus or just having a bad game. Then last week we had a tournament just the 3 of us and was shocked by losing 3 games to the older boy! Three straight games!
Losing is not something I take well at so I was not satisfied with the outcome but after rematches and rematches, which I lost, I conceded that the torch was passed and 10-year old Mikhail was the new ping pong champion of the house. Sad. (As Trump would tweet)
I am comforted with the fact that I still could win the odd game between myself and the 8-year old but that too seems like it would end soon. As they look at me sulking in a corner after another loss, they go, “Don’t be sad daddy, you taught us well and that’s why we are good!”
Thanks boys, how about one more game? Just to make sure.