“How did your trip to Houston go?” A friend asked at a luncheon following the Easter service.
I paused for a second and decided that I was not going with a simple and thoughtless “good.”
“Umm…let’s see, how should I begin?”
The idea to fly down to Houston to celebrate my mother’s 80th birthday came at a time when I was just emerging from a parenting crisis. Even though our family life had returned to some form of normalcy, I was still apprehensive about traveling alone with my children, especially with a temperamental tween. I had little confidence that I could ensure a peaceful coexistence among the children. My stress was mounting.
And what could I bring to keep these tweens occupied and entertained on the trip? There was only so much I could pack to make sure the only piece of luggage I felt I could afford to check in was under 50 lbs., and that all the carry-on bags had to be light enough for children to carry. And just in case they started to falter in the journey, I, as the only adult, could shoulder all of their loads. I ordered a few graphic novels for my youngest and had them shipped directly to my mom’s place. And my son had to pack Mancala with 48 stones. Besides that, I could only hope a single iPad would keep them all content!
Two months ago, as an effort to combat the Screen Time Epidemic, I announced to everyone that we will have a family game night. The only cheer I heard came from my 12-year-old son. He loves board games and the rules. He would pore over the entire instruction manual and miss not a single sub-point. He’d then insist that we follow ALL the rules. (If it’s up to me, I’d just make them up along the way.) How about the girls? “It’s boring,” said one. “It’s too hard,” said the other. And my husband? He pretended not to have heard me. Somehow he made his gym time to coincide with family game time.
So for two weeks in a row, I played board games with just my son while patiently waiting for him to study the rules…and mostly for the games to end.
There were a few decks of poker cards stored in the closet of our den. We had not touched these cards ever since the kids came along. Poker cards to me just don’t seem to invoke a sense of wholesomeness, and it’s the same way I feel about Mahjong. Perhaps it has to do with people playing these games with the intent to gamble, and to associate with such activities just seems unbecoming.
But I had to look for the lightest game to pack for the trip. So I grabbed a deck of cards and threw it into my purse. I decided that I was going to teach my kids the game of Big Two during our Houston trip.
Was I desperate? You bet.
What is Big Two (“chor dai di”)? It’s a card game all Asian high schoolers and college students had to know in order to fit in in the 80s and 90s. If your kid asks you what you did as a teen without an iPhone, just tell him or her you played cards and gambled with pennies and quarters.
To explain Big Two to American-born Chinese tweens would require that I teach the fundamentals of poker. My kids had absolutely no exposure to these playing cards. What are the four suits? Spade, heart, club, and diamond. What are their ranks? What are the face cards and their values? Jacks, Queens, and Kings. Eleven, twelve, and thirteen.
Then I had to explain the five-card hands in the language of poker. Straight, Flush, Full House, Four-of-a-kind and Straight Flush. Oh, let me not forget Royal Flush.
Lastly, I had to make clear the highest ranking card is 2 instead of Ace.
My older daughter couldn’t wait for me to explain all of these rules so she tried to look up “poker” on her laptop. “Mom…its’ blocked!” The parental control software stopped “poker” from going through the search engine. I guess it’s because it falls under the gambling category.
High five, Qustodio!
We played with all the cards open the first few times. After an hour or so, the kids got it. They learned to play, but I was still winning most games.
Interestingly, my son would always look for Royal Flush in his hand. “Mom, I don’t think I have Royal Flush to beat your Full House!”
Of course not!
Excitedly, I texted my husband from Houston about our playing Big Two. “I am the king of Big Two” came the reply.
After our return to New York, we were ready to face the king. Our kids were eager to play with their dad. My husband hasn’t played this game for probably fifteen years, and he too was itching for a chance to show off. He said he had strategies, and he taught the kids how to beat their opponents. Well, he did live up to his self-proclaimed title and won almost all the games.
Finally, we found a game we all can play, and it has become an activity we all look forward to on the weekend – A Five-Game-Big-Two-Show-Down after dinner.
We told the kids we can learn a lesson here. In life, we are dealt different sets of cards. Regardless of the hand we are dealt, we will always do the best we can and make the most out of it. Isn’t that so? If we don’t complain about the hand we are dealt in a card game, why should we complain about the hand we are dealt in real life? And say if we were dealt a great hand, wouldn’t we kick ourselves for not winning?
I want to brush up and teach my kids some of my favorite card games, such as gin rummy, and even the more complex bridge. It’s a way to bridge the gap between the Floppy Disk generation & the iPad generation. It’s a way to get the kids out of their rooms and away from their screens and have fun as a family.