So Kayla had a Bingo night at her school last night. It was for the whole family and she was really excited for all of us to go. So we went and had ice cream and watched Isaac flick Bingo chips off the table between and during the games. It doesn't take much for those things to become weapons. It was fun watching the kids playing and getting really close to winning. They had ice cream and had a really good time until we told Isaac he couldn't have more ice cream.
In the midst of the noise and commotion, a letter and number was called out and out of all the people in the room, (there had to be at least 200 playing) my card was the winner! BINGO!!!! I yelled really loud, so proud of my accomplishment. The lady then came over to check my card. As she yelled to the main lady with the microphone in front of the entire crowd in attendance my letters and numbers that I had covered, it seems as if N-45 was never called. Then why did I have it covered? Was there some Bingo experience in my youth that made me really want to show everyone that I can win at Bingo? Did I really want the McNeal Elementary antennae ball so bad that I resorted to creating a competitive advantage in my favor thinking I would not have to face the consequences of unfair play? As the lady with the microphone let me know that I had not won with that "come on Dad, it's not that hard of a game" look on her face, a collective "AHHHHHH" came from the lunch room because most of the gamers had already cleared their cards. At that moment as the game resumed, a confused Makayla asked me, "didn't you win Dad?" I tried to come up with the words to help her understand that "Listen Makayla, you can't win them all; leave me alone right now."
Everyone around me tried to keep talking and playing as if I just then didn't make a fool of me, my family, and our faith since the family behind us was in our ward. Chauntel had to take off with Jackson as I yelled Bingo and came back wondering where my prize was. Last she heard, I was proclaiming my victory in this game of skill and chance. I had to let her know too that although N-45 should have been called, it really wasn't.
So as the stories will go today at McNeal Elementary about that guy that tried to cheat at Bingo last night, inevitably someone will associate my sweet girl with the event and ask, "Was that your Dad, Makayla?" She will then be faced with the decision that will follow her for the rest of her life. Does she accept me as her father in spite of myself, or does she take the easy road, one that will qualify her for much less heartache for the rest of her life and say, "I think he's my stepped Dad. Or something like that."