I have read that as we age, it is healthy for us to engage in activities that keep the mind stimulated.  Think crossword puzzles.  If true, I may be in big trouble (unless college football counts).

Most of the time I have no interest in any kind of mental challenges outside of those required.  Life in general keeps my mind fully occupied.  On car trips Laura likes to work those Sudoku puzzles.  I’m a math guy and I haven’t even bothered to learn the goal of a Sudoku puzzle, much less work one.  (Perhaps any pent-up need to commit math is satisfied by my day job).  Crossword puzzles turn me off.  When I go to Cracker Barrell I want to drink coffee, eat breakfast, stare at the fire, and maybe breathe through my mouth.  Why would I want to frustrate myself maneuvering colorful golf tees about a wooden triangle?  I have enough to think about without taking on artificial challenges.

I do strive to meet the minimum level of mental gymnastics to parent our kids.  I’ll do the occasional Mad Lib, for example.

Our son, Jacob, learned to play chess when he was about six or seven.  I came home from work and he told me he knew how to play.  I think my father-in-law taught him.  I proudly sat down to play a chess match with Jacob, which I won mostly by accident.

Then we played again.  He won.  I didn’t exactly let him win, but I didn’t really focus on the game, either.  I enjoy letting our kids win games, but I usually try to win enough myself just so they know that losing is a part of life and can accept it when it happens.  So when we played the next game I knuckled down.

And he beat me even faster than he did before.

Maybe the reason I don’t enjoy mental challenge games is that they are too much of a mental challenge for me.  Over the next few weeks we played enough that I learned I was indeed a superior player, but frankly not by very much.  We haven’t played in quite a while and I assume he has surpassed me, seeing as how he’s getting smarter and I’m (at best)  holding steady.

Today I came home from work to find Jacob, now twelve, teaching our daughter, almost seven, how the chess pieces can move.  I’m not sure if they were playing for real.  Shelby was giggling with each illegal move she tried.  I think she was doing it on purpose to try to frustrate him, which sisters sometimes do to brothers (or so I have heard).

At one point Jacob said, “No, Shelby.  Pawns can only be moved forward.”

So Shelby gets up, walks around to his side of the table, and moves her pawn to the exact square she had just tried, except now (being on the other side of the table) she was indeed pushing it forward.  Problem solved.

Why make things harder than they have to be?

That’s my girl.