Ms. Laura Bennett

He Called It a Kindergarten Game. Up to 71% Off!

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"Please don't bring one of your classroom things this year. The boys are 15 and 12. They're not your students." My sister texted me that a week before Christmas. A minute later she sent one more: "Just come as my sister for once." That was last December. I read it standing in my mom's kitchen with a roll of wrapping paper under my arm. And I kept my promise. I didn't bring a single classroom thing to Christmas. What happened at my mom's kitchen island that afternoon still wasn't what my sister had in mind. It started at Thanksgiving. I've taught kindergarten for 19 years. My sister is younger than me, and she married a man with two boys. I'll call them Fitz and Otis. When they were little, I was the fun aunt with the gingerbread kits. Then Fitz turned 15 and Otis turned 12, and last Thanksgiving they ate in about ten minutes and went out to sit in my sister's car on their phones. When they came back in for pie, I asked if they wanted to play something. I meant the block game my mom keeps in her pantry. Fitz didn't even look up. "Aunt Laura thinks everybody's five." My sister laughed. Then both boys went back out to the car. So that text stung. I knew exactly how I'd looked to that boy, standing at the table with my teacher voice on. My mom read the text over my shoulder. She's 70, and she has never once let anybody win at anything. "Good," she said. "Then they won't see it coming." "I promised her," I said. "You promised you wouldn't bring anything," my mom said. "Nobody said a word about my pantry." The game in her pantry is The Uzzle. It's the same one I keep in my classroom's calm corner. I gave her one the fall I got my first, and we've been racing at her kitchen island ever since. It's simple. We each grab five little blocks with patterns painted all over them. One of us flips a card, and we all spin our blocks as fast as we can to copy it. Whoever copies it first yells "Uzzle!" Every card belongs to one of four piles, from easy up to brutal. My five-year-olds stick to the easy pile. My mom and I only play the brutal one. My mom made one rule for Christmas. "Nobody asks those boys to do anything. Don't even look at them." Christmas afternoon, after presents, the boys were stretched out in the living room, scrolling, and Fitz already had his shoes on for the car. My niece, who was 3 then, was on my mom's lap at the island. My mom poured the blocks out on the counter, loud. "Hardest cards," she said. "I've been waiting all year to beat you." And we raced. We didn't play nice. My mom yells "Uzzle!" like the house is on fire. She called me a cheater. I told her she was slow. I didn't look toward the living room once. That was the hardest part of my whole Christmas. On the fourth card, Otis showed up. He stopped just inside the kitchen, phone hanging at his side. "What are you guys even doing?" "Beating your aunt," my mom said, and didn't look up. He came and leaned on the island. He watched two more cards. Then, very quietly, "Can I play?" My mom slid five blocks across the counter to him without a word and gave him a hard card. He lost the first card, and the second. Then he beat both of us and yelled "Uzzle!" right at my mom. My niece clapped. That's when Fitz came in, shoes still on. "This is literally a kindergarten game," he said. "Then you'll win," my mom said. She handed him the hardest card in the box. He did not win. My 70-year-old mother beat a 15-year-old boy four cards in a row. Then he finally beat her, and he jumped back from the counter like he'd won a championship. Then he shoved his blocks back to the middle. "One more." Nobody went out to the car that day. At some point my sister walked in from the living room. She stood in the doorway too, and I could see her doing the math on whose idea this was. I didn't say anything. I just got up and held out my five blocks. She took them. My mom, my sister and both boys were all on the hard cards, and my niece was in my mom's lap, flipping the cards for everybody. When the boys went for more pie, my sister and I raced and fought over a card the way we used to fight over the front seat. They played until dark. I didn't teach anybody a thing all day. That night my sister found me at the sink. "What did you do?" she said. "Nothing," I said. "I kept my promise." "Laura." So I told her what I got wrong at Thanksgiving. Every September there's a kid or two who won't come to the carpet on the first day. He stands at the edge of the room and watches. If I walk over and ask him to join us, he backs up. What works is to stop asking. I sit down with the kids who already came, start something fun and a little loud, and don't look at him. Within a few minutes, he's inching closer. A kid will walk into something that's already happening. He won't walk into an invitation. When you invite him, everybody turns and watches him decide. Then everybody watches him try it and be bad at it. A 15-year-old at a family holiday is standing at the edge of the carpet too. Only now there's a phone in his hand, and a phone never watches him mess up. It keeps feeding him small, easy wins, and nobody sees him lose. So when a grown-up asks him to put it down and try something in front of the whole family, she's asking him to give up the easy thing for a chance to look dumb. At Thanksgiving, that's what I did. At Christmas, my mom and I didn't ask. We let them watch from the doorway until they knew they could keep up. And this game makes it easy on a kid like that. Everybody plays at the same time, with their heads down over their own five blocks. There's no turn where the whole table stares at you. Nobody waits for anybody. And a round is over before anyone even notices who lost. My sister dried the same plate for a long time. "Fitz hasn't stayed inside at a holiday since he was 12," she said. Then, "I'm sorry about the text." "You were right," I said. "I did come as your sister. I just also lost to Mom about forty times." My niece is 4 now. She plays the easy cards herself, and she has beaten both boys. They swear they let her. They didn't. This October, Fitz texted me first. He had never done that. "r u bringing the block game for christmas" He still thinks it's mine. It's my mom's. I haven't told him. But I am bringing my own box this year, so there are two going on the island and the whole family can race at once. A minute later, one more: "tell grandma to get the hardest cards ready" I sent it to my sister. She texted me back a few minutes later. "Bring whatever you want this year." If your big kids spend every holiday out in the car on a phone, and you've been told to quit trying, I've been there. You didn't push them away, and they're not too old. They just don't want to say yes in front of everybody. So don't ask. Put a fast, loud game on the table where they can see it, one where a teenager, a grandma and a 4-year-old can all race at once on their own cards, and save them a seat. Of every game in my mom's house, it's the only one every age in our family plays. P.S. Fitz wants to practice before he sees my mom again. So I ordered one for my sister's house on The Uzzle's own website, where it's $30. It's their Christmas present from me, and I'm not making him wait until Christmas to open it. Go check it out for yourself. 👉 https://theuzzle.com/pages/uzzle-blockwork-bundle