Mr. Man and His Jacket

My very first date with Mr. Man was at a wedding about 13 years ago.  I cannot remember what I wore, (beautiful, I'm sure) but I know he wore a dark suit jacket and a tie.  During the dinner, I stepped away to visit the ladies room and quickly looked back at him.  I think his head is a bit small, I said to myself, but in actual fact, his suit jacket was just too big.  He did not fit into the shoulders of his jacket.

Most of you know he flies around a lot, wearing a cape and saving people in distress.  Just this morning I saw him bend down to a lady half his height and give his best Mr. Man smile to make her day.  But on his off days, he wears a suit and tie and sells insurance.  (Hence the Mr. Incredible picture).

But I have to say, of all the days when I was most proud of him, one was a Sunday a few weeks back, when he got inducted as a councilman at our church.  We met there, you know.  We had our kids baptized there.  We both did profession-of-faith there (he wouldn't let me do it at the same time as him - but that's perhaps another blog post).  And now he was going to be an elder.

His mom sat close by and was busting with pride.  In her eyes, he might as well have been becoming a pastor.  And of course, our friends were there to support him, too.

He didn't have his cape on that day, but as I looked at him reciting the words we'd practiced on the drive there, I realized his shoulders looked very broad.

He had finally fit into his jacket.

A Game of Cards at the Schaafsma's

So this Christmas I decided to buy a game that the four of us could play together.  I love card games.  Not a lot of people like to play them with me, however.  

I remember playing these year's game, Dutch Blitz, when I was at University.  You had to have agility and speed.  Watch the cards, and move your hands.  Watch the cards.  Move your hands. BLITZ!  It was over in seconds.  

So hey, why not buy it for the fam?

I knew we wouldn't be able to play quickly with Little Miss being "underage" but decided we'd play in teams so it would be well balanced.  I had it all worked out.  And, since the kids were at my mom and dad's overnight, why not give it a go, warm up the cards with Mr. Man, and have fun at the same time?

We cracked open the deck, dealt the cards, played a few rounds, until WHAM! he threw the cards at me and stormed out of the room.

I don't know what happened.  I was just playing.  I can't help that I'm so good...


I got him to come back.  We played one more friendly game and parted amiably.


The kids arrived the next day and we showed them how to play.  We broke into teams:  the "reds" versus the rest of us (we could say "blonds," but I'm not, really).

Nice and slow, friendly, fun.  All these adjectives were there, until BLITZ! Little Miss and Mr. Man win the game.  My teammate starts to cry.

Suddenly I am reminded of the mom who got her kids to hurry up with their supper by racing to see who could finish first.  All she got were three boys, with tears down their faces, choking on overstuffed mouths as the winner cheered.  Not fun.

So after a pep talk from his dad, we play the game again.  And BLITZ! we win!  Little Miss bursts into tears and runs from the room.  What is going on? More hugs and encouraging words all around.

We let it go for a day and head back to the table the next night after supper.  We are faster this time, but different teams.  Girls against the boys.  Boys win the first game.  (I have to confess I kept my one hand on my head so as not to take over my teammate's cards).  I could feel my adrenalin rising as we entered into the next game.  I had all tens in front of me and could not do anything.  There's Little Miss, with her age-six hands, moving her cards in slow motion, and the vein in my head pulsing.

Just as I lose it, grab her cards, and try to take control of our team, my son yells, BLITZ! and the game is over.  Little Miss and I both get up and run from the table.

She returns to play again, but I have my pride.  And now, halfway through January, no one can seem to find the game anywhere.

Mr. Man did remind me, ironically, of a certain glass chessboard that ended up smashed against our apartment wall when we were playing against each other.

He was winning.