Since the day we met, Hubs has flat refused to play Scrabble. We got the game as a gift during the wedding to-dos, but he was petrified of playing it with me (a self-proclaimed wordsmith). At some point shortly after the nuptials we made a deal that if I ran with him (which I refused to do for many months; physical activity with Hubs always descends into pure competition) he would play Scrabble with me. So I ran with him (this was when we were still in our Jersey apartment) but he reneged on his vow and Scrabble remained untouched in its perfect plastic wrap.
Fast-forward at least a year.
When we traveled to NJ last month, we bought crossword puzzle books for the plane. And we’ve kept those books close at hand ever since. Yesterday morning Hubs was working on crosswords for like 2 hours. Then I snatched the book from his hands and laid down the Scrabble box. He had promised, after all.
He didn’t put up too much of a fight (it was his day off, and he had just completed like 4 crossword puzzles in a row) but he whined like a little girl about how I was going to beat him. 37 minutes and 218 points later, he beat ME, and decided that Scrabble wasn’t so bad after all.
I figured, whatever; it was a nice one-time thing, but he’s been fighting the Scrabble for so long I don’t expect anything more than that one game.
Except last night I got giggly-tipsy, so he pulled out Scrabble just to see how I performed while under the influence. (I performed very badly. Lots of 2 and 3 point words.)
And then this morning, he wanted to play Scrabble again.
I’ve created a monster.
No one can resist the siren-call of Scrabble.