I have been avoiding an admission: My illusions of decent potential at poker were dashed by a bunch of kids...and their mother!

A couple of Saturdays ago, I was treated to another sumptuous meal by my WS's father, one of my requests to boot. While he was slaving at the stove, I taught his three youngest children how to play Texas Hold 'Em poker. Their game playing brilliance apparently extends to poker. WS's middle sister had an embarrassing pile of chips in front of her by the time the meal was read to eat.

With the two youngest bundled off to bed, the rest of us sat down to play after a few more tutorials. I thought I would have the upper hand. After all, I have had hundreds of hours of watching those experts play on TV. I did well for a while, then I foolishly tried to be a chip bully with my WS's mother. She broke me. I had few chips left and folded three hands in a row. All three hands, I would have had trips had I stayed in the hand. It was a misery to lose. The twelve-year-old who had given everyone else a run for their money before dinner, led her father on a merry chase when it got down to heads up. Of course, the brilliant scientist won, but it was exciting to see her grasp the concept and strategies of the game in just a few hours.

I, of course, hated losing. Yet another game in which those children demonstrate their mental prowess.

Perhaps if I just played with the six-year-old and the nine-year-old I would have a chance at winning?

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NOTE: My WS's father often comes under fire during his masterful culinary exercises because we often sit down to enjoy his hard labors after 9:00. Last Sunday, the twelve-year-old and I launched into a culinary effort of our own (with a wee bit of assistance from the master chef). We prepared guacamole and chips, muli-layered (by hand) nachos, quesadillas, and chicken and steak fajitas. We used all fresh ingredients (my is she skilled with a knife) and the dinner was quite sumptuous. However, we sat down for the last course at 10:00, when the parents had work and the kids had school the next day. My co-chef and I spent hours and hours laboring under the kitchen lights. I will forever more hold my tongue with regard to ETA queries of WS's dad when he is doing his magic.

NOTE 2: It has come to my attention that all of the poetic waxings of WS's father's skill in the kitchen has not reflected well on her mother. Trust me, she can wend her way around spices as well. I am just there, primarily, when her father is showing off. And...when he is at his finest, his wife often serves as sous-chef. We all know that without a skilled team in the kitchen, no great meal is ever a success. Thus, here is my tribute to her...even if she did shame me in poker!