(On a very long side note, did any one else go through about a 4 year period in their childhood where they believed that they had ESP? Or at least the childhood version of ESP that includes telekinesis and anything else cool that you could possibly do with your mind? And would you spend hours staring at spoons and glasses trying to get them to move? And then finally give up and try to mentally summon the local poltergeist to come and just move the shit for you? No? Just me? )
The problem with games of chance is that you have to be prepared to lose. And you should never bet more than you're willing to let go. And the fickle hand of fate that deals winnings is the same that deals the losers.
Last week, when I got home from the library with the big one, I realized that taking kid's stuff out of the library is an awful lot like roulette. We open up Richard Scarry's Mr. Paint Pig's ABC's and the "lift-and-look" flaps are all hanging precariously. Will my child be the one who overexuberantly seeks out what happens as garbage truck backs up? Or will the worn paper hold long enough to make it to another house? So that another sheepish parent can go up to the librarian's desk and mutter, "My kid wrecked this book. How much do I owe?"
My hands sweat and shake at bedtime storytime.
Shuffle up and deal.