>Growing up, Saturday nights meant that my parents would go over to friends and neighbors houses to play cards. My sister and I were then supposed to socialize with the random children of my parents friends. Sometimes we knew these kids pretty well, so it was fun for us too.
Mostly, we were stuck playing with strangers we only saw once or twice a year and to whom we were not related. Of course, no one went home at our bedtime (no matter what the parents say today), so when the strange kids were tucked in their cozy beds, we were forced to curl up on a weird couch watching reruns of Matt Houston. I always wondered what the hell was going on at the card table. It sounded like they were having a good time while I was bored.
Now I’m the adult. Of course, I don’t have any children of my own to torture. I just see my friends and family do it to their children. What’s going on at our table? Cards and booze. Nothing has changed in the past 30 years. I do know that I was right. It’s a lot more fun to be at the card table.