Yesterday we paid the equivalent of £10 to hang out by the pool of the local hotel all day. The staff greeted us like long lost relatives, and the few guests still suffering from aviation-based frustrations due to the volcanic erruptions of a few weeks ago bid us a warm hello as well.
Most pleased to see us perhaps, were the trio of mature Eastern European ladies, who, skimpily clad (and still rather sexy in their bikini's it has to be said) took great delight in Dumpie most of the day - especially when he began winking at them and saying "Hey Lookin' Gookin'" (his standard response to when you wink at him and say "Hey Good Lookin'...")
I'm not sure however that they, or anybody else, were much amused by the series of chess games conducted round the pool side late afternoon with Egg. First the husband's 50 year old mate played Egg - and lost. Egg was jubilant. The husband was perplexed. Did we have a potential chess genius on our hands? Or was his mate still suffering severe enough jet lag to account for losing to a five year old?
The husband then proceeded to play a match with Egg, gently pointing out good moves, and steering his son into making a triumphant check mate. Egg was overjoyed.
Then Egg played me. (The other day the husband snidely remarked that given that I hadn't played the game in over a decade, I was probably a good match for Egg. I did not take kindly to this.) I, despite being half-heartedly committed to the game, and somewhat bored, making risky, uncalculated moves, somehow managed to win - in a clever manoever I can't really take credit for having orchestrated. Nonetheless, I was the victor.
Sure enough, great wails of despair, tears and pawns flying like shrapnel across the cement followed. Egg doesn't like to lose. He hasn't quite grasped the concept of losing graciously.
He proceeded to bawl me out for being a bad Mama, and told me he'd never play me again. Moments later he came up to me, eyes still red from crying and said, "Mama, will you play chess with me?"
Preferring to bare my bikini-clad body to the world rather than engage in another "Chess-gate" I firmly shook my head, stripped off, and dove into the lukewarm pool water.
You've got to know when to hold 'em...and know when to fold 'em...