Spent the weekend at my parents’ place, and my mom brought out Trouble—the very same game from my childhood. She has a knack for keeping treasures, and I’m honestly grateful she does. There’s nothing like the nostalgia of playing with my kids, hearing that Pop-O-Matic pop, and realizing some things never change—like waiting an eternity for a six to get out of “home.”
Ten minutes of hopeful popping later, my kids are cruising around the board while I’m still stuck—just like old times. The second I finally break free, I’m sent right back by my own kids. Turns out, I might be more dramatic than the grandkids when it comes to board game setbacks.
I might owe my mom an apology. I definitely give her grief for hanging on to everything and having closets stuffed full of “stuff”. But then she brings out my old toys, it’s pretty special. Sorry mom!
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