Sorry, but game night here to stay

Elton John sings, “Sorry seems to be the hardest word,” but in my family, Sorry is the board game we played during every visit to my grandparent’s house.

That’s right; I come from a long line of gamers, and I’m not talking about video games. I’m referring to good old-fashioned, non-electronic board and card games.

At my grandparent’s house, Sorry or a rousing round of Aggravation followed every holiday meal. The coffee would be poured. The kids banished to their own games. And the adults would roll up their sleeves and wage war across the table. Both games lean heavily on the strategy of sending other players back to home or base. My grandpa and my dad were feisty competitors who took fiendish glee in sending their opponents back.

Fueled by caffeine and laughter, the adults bantered, and good-naturedly bickered for hours.

The gaming tradition continued in my parent’s home. I learned everything I need to know about commodities trading by playing Pit with my family. The desperate cries of “One, one, anybody one?” as someone frantically tried to trade the last card needed to corner the market, still rings in my ears. And woe to the sneaky sibling who pawned off the Bear or Bull card in a last-minute trade!

When our voices were sore from Pit, we switched to Spoons. The quiet slap, slap of cards hitting the table proved deceptively benign. The object of the game is to get four-of-a-kind and then stealthily steal a spoon from the center of the table. There’s one less spoon than players, so the spoon-less person is out.

My dad often teased that the game would be more fun with forks or steak knives, but Mom made him stick to the rules.

Speaking of my father, he probably drew the most hilarious Pictionary clue in history. Over and over he drew two stick-figure girls holding hands. Mom guessed everything from “best friends” to “Thelma and Louise,” to no avail. When the time was up, my dad showed his card. His word? Polyester.

Pointing to his drawing, he explained, “That’s Polly. This is Esther!”

My husband comes close to topping that one. He repeatedly drew scary monster faces and socks. Apparently, he was under the impression that gargoyle and argyle are interchangeable. To this day, dress socks are called gargoyle socks at our house.

When our children arrived I patiently played hours of Don’t Break the Ice, Hungry Hungry Hippo and Operation with them. I drew the line at Candyland. No adult should have to suffer through minutes that seem like years in the Candy Cane Forest.

I couldn’t wait until they were old enough for Uno. That game became the staple of our monthly family game night. Unlike Life or Monopoly, there was no money to keep track of, so the game is accessible as soon as kids know colors and numbers.

Which brings me to this Christmas. Our oldest son, Ethan, bought us a new game called Cards Against Humanity. I’ll let the description on the box speak for itself: “Cards Against Humanity is a party game for horrible people.”

It’s always shocking to find out what your children really think about you, isn’t it?

But I digress. You play the game just like our much loved Apples to Apples. Each round, one player asks a question from a black card, and everyone else answers with their funniest white card. The difference being the questions and answer cards are strictly adult-themed.

When I posted a picture of the game on Facebook, I was admonished by friends to NEVER, EVER play this game with my children – even my adult children.

So of course, the day after Christmas we played the game with our kids.

I should have known we were in trouble when my answer cards were; Nazis, my worthless son, the Holy Bible, chainsaws for hands, Judge Judy, and a piñata full of scorpions. The question? “My plan for world domination begins with ____?”

And that’s just about the mildest example I can write here. This game is not for the prudish, faint of heart, or easily offended. This I will tell you. We were horrified. We groaned. We laughed so hard we couldn’t breathe.

Family game night may never be the same, and Ethan may yet be Sorry to have caused this much Aggravation.