Grandpa Mike was teaching the kids to play five-card draw. They were using K'Nex (think Tinkertoys of 2006) as chips. They were enjoying that, and then I came home. I said, "Let's learn a new game."
"Cool," said The Old Daughter, 11. "What's it called?"
"It's called Texas Hold 'Em." I dealt the pocket cards, explained terms and the betting, and set down the flop. The Wife rolled her eyes. The Boy, not quite 7, said, "Hey, this looks fun."
The Boy bluffed his way to win two consecutive hands, one of them after he stared down his sister, who folded to his pair of 4s. Grandpa Mike won a few hands, I held out until the river for a flush to win one, and then it was dinnertime.
Didn't think much more of it until a few days later, when we were driving to Lowe's or Home Depot or Chili's or somewhere suburban in the minivan. The Wife said, "It's awful quiet back there; wonder what's going on?"
The silence continues for a few seconds. Then, the Old Daughter's voice: "Now, here's the flop ... "
Yeah, I got The Look. You know, the look one's wife gives you after it becomes completely evident that you've corrupted the children in some fashion; the look I get when The Boy knows the words to "Bohemian Rhapsody." I'm pretty sure I deserved The Look. I'm not going to worry about it, at least not until my two older kids show up to the table in sunglasses.
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