Cocooning

Ryker has been sick all week with the flu, and I've been trying to survive TWO boys at home with "nothing to do." All the extra tube-time, rough-housing, and testosterone-revving Playstation games have pushed me to the edge. And so when Ryker invited me to a quiet, sit-down game of Monopoly the other day, I was thrilled!

Monopoly is Ryker's favorite. Whenever we play, we create a "fast-forward" version, where properties are dealt out like cards. Only a few properties are set aside for actual purchase. And then we negotiate between the two of us for some win-win monopolies. "I'll give you Park Place if I can have your Railroads" kind of thing. Starting with an excess of cash also gives the game a kick start.

Ryker has a knack for acquiring premiere properties fast, and building hotels even faster. He whoops my butt, even when I'm not "letting" him. When we pulled the board out yesterday, it wasn't long before I owed him big money. Of course, more than I had. For awhile, he celebrated his mountains of cash, jumping up like a football fan every time I landed on his big, money-sucking, red-rising monopolies.

But then suddenly, after much whooping and hollering, Ryker's whole demeanor changed. His body slumped down into his seat. "Here," he said, handing me a $500 bill.

Even with upbeat assurance from me that I was having a blast, and that this was simply the "name of the game," Ryker seemed moved with compassion. Concern rippled through his body like a wave (literally) whenever I owed him money.

It seemed that he couldn't stand to see me selling houses, or mortgaging properties to come up with a balance due. He'd shiver with emotion, grab another $500 bill (from his stacks of thousands), and hand it over to me as if trying to ward off that awful feeling of seeing his mom in such a vulnerable position. (Sad, because I guess this suggests he's more in touch with our financial reality than I want him to be.)

I would laugh and say, "You have a good heart, Ryker, but I don't need your money. Really! It's okay to win!" The more I resisted, the more he insisted. He'd let me out of jail free. He'd overlook my obligation to pay taxes. He'd even ask me to "roll again" when the dice didn't show doubles. I'd laugh some more and think, "Maybe mercy is one of his spiritual gifts???"

Today, while Sean napped, we gave Monopoly another whirl. This time, though, Ryker built his properties a little TOO fast. Soon, he was low on cash, and the person he "owed" was ME. I tried to help him sell hotels and mortgage properties where he could--practicing his math skills while we were at it. And all the while I was sitting on a stack of money, thinking, "He always wins. Don't create a sense of entitlement by cushioning this loss. It's good for him to learn that one doesn't always win in games or at life."

Obviously, Ryker didn't acquire the gift of mercy from me.

It took several rounds of play before my heart softened. "Ryker, I'd like to help you rebuild your properties on this side of the board," I said, forking over a large stack of money and grabbing a handful of recently discarded hotels.

"Why are you helping me, Mom?" he asked, truly unaware of the obvious answer.

"Because you helped me, Ryker. You showed me mercy so many times yesterday. Now, I'm showing mercy to you."

And then I thought to myself, How is it that a game is never "just a game?"

"He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love MERCY, and to walk humbly with your God." Micah 6:8