Recently, my eight-year-old son, Jake, decided to join the Chess Club at his school. He had limited experience, having only played a few games with our neighbor’s son, so his first day was a letdown when he lost.
To help him practice, my husband dug out our old chess set from the back of the closet. I had mentioned that while I used to play frequently in college, my memory of the game had faded. When Jake requested a match, of course, I couldn’t refuse. After a quick search on Google for a refresher, we sat down to play, both wearing serious expressions.
Surprisingly, playing chess came back to me quite easily—after all, I just had to remember that it’s called a “bishop,” not a “pointy piece.” About 45 minutes into the game, I had Jake’s king cornered. “Check,” I declared. He sat in silence for a while, trying to find a way out of the predicament I’d created. However, when I noticed his shoulders droop in defeat, I told him he had played a fantastic game and extended my hand for a post-game handshake. Instead, he left me hanging.
“Hey buddy, that’s not cool. You always shake hands after a game, win or lose. How about a high five?” He wasn’t interested. His bottom lip quivered, and soon enough, my lanky eight-year-old was in my lap, tears streaming down his face. I wiped his frustrated tears and reassured him that losing is a normal part of learning. My husband, meanwhile, quietly mouthed from the couch, “You should have let him win!”
Later that night, as Jake prepared for bed, he couldn’t stop talking about our match. His tears had dried, but he was still fixated on every mistake he made. He rambled while brushing his teeth, continued while peeing, and mumbled through his pajama shirt. “I shouldn’t have moved my knight!” “I should have sacrificed that pawn!” “I can’t believe I let you take my queen!”
Finally, as I tucked him in, he got to the crux of his thoughts from the last half hour: “Mom, can I ask you a favor?”
“Sure!” I replied.
“Could you… maybe take it easy on me next time?”
Suppressing a laugh, I responded, “Well, let’s consider that. If I promise to go easy on you, and you win knowing I wasn’t playing my best, how will that make you feel? Do you think you’ll feel like you really earned that victory?”
Jake pondered this for a moment before admitting, “I guess I would feel like you just gave it to me.”
“Now, think about this: if every time we play, you know I’m giving it my all, and it takes you five games, or maybe twenty, or even a whole year before you finally beat me fair and square, how do you think you’ll feel then?” I could tell he was nervous about the idea. “But when it happens, you’ll know you truly won. What will that feel like?”
A smile broke across his face. “I think I’ll want to scream with happiness!”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Okay, it’s up to you. If you want me to go easy, I can do that. But if you want me to play to win, I can do that too. Just know I won’t lie to you about it. So what’s your choice?”
After a brief hesitation, he declared, “Full out.”
This experience reminded me that embracing challenges is crucial for growth. If you’re interested in exploring more about parenting and fertility, check out this excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination. You might also want to discover ways to enhance your chances with boost fertility supplements or learn from authority sites like this one for more insights.
Summary:
In this article, a mother shares her experience of teaching her son about the value of perseverance and genuine achievement through a game of chess. Rather than allowing him to win easily, she encourages him to embrace challenges, which ultimately leads to a more rewarding sense of accomplishment.