Tag Archives: holidays

Gamer Baby in Three Easy Steps: Intro to Toddler Board Games

Like board games? Have toddlers in your life? Want to share that love of competition and collaboration and teeny wooden Meeples with the next generation? There are some really, really fun toddler board games out there, designed for children as young as 2. They’re simple enough to teach to kids who have a limited vocabulary, but they’re not insipidly stupid, so parents won’t lose their minds playing along.

We’re lucky enough to have a group of gamer friends whose kids have been playing since they’re teeny, and they introduced us to some of the best toddler board games out there. These three are our favorites, and taken together they’re a solid three-step process to getting your toddler (or someone else’s) into the basics of board games – both the rules and the fun.

Step 1: Go Away Monster

(Cardboard pieces. Recommended for toddlers as young as 18 months, depending on temperament.)

Go Away Monster Toddler Game

This is more of a puzzle than a true board game, but it’s excellent for teaching toddlers the important concepts of turn-taking and placing pieces on a game board. There are four eclectically decorated flat cardboard rooms, and a small canvas bag of assorted bedroom furniture. Players take turns picking a piece out of the bag without peeking, and hope to pull out something that they need – a teddy bear, maybe, or a lamp. But there are monsters lurking in the canvas bag, too! Any player who pulls out a monster gets to throw it into the game’s empty box, saying “GO AWAY MONSTER!” This is, by far, my son’s favorite part of the game.

When you first start playing, it’ll be a challenge to get the kid to give up the bag for someone else’s turn, and to keep them from peeking into the bag to find their favorite pieces. In theory, the game ends when one player completes their room’s decor, but it’s okay not to push the concept of winning or losing just yet. It can be a good lead-in to discussions of sharing: “Mommy just got a bed out of the bag! But Mommy already has a bed in her room, what should I do? Does anyone else need a bed more than I do?”

Step 2: My First Orchard

(Cardboard with painted wooden pieces. Recommended for toddlers 2 and up.)

First Orchard Game Toddlers

This could also be called “My first Co-operative Board Game,” because this game pits players against a hungry crow who is trying to get to the orchard to steal our basket of fruit.

The shiny fruit pieces sit in their cardboard “trees,” waiting to be picked when a player rolls the right color. Yellow? Pick a pear and put it in the basket. Blue? Pick a plum. The basket symbol is a freebie – you can pick whichever fruit you want. If you roll the crow, then the bird moves one more step along the orchard path. If he gets to the orchard before you’ve filled up the basket, the game is over!

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The orchard game reinforces turn-taking skills and teaches children to roll a die and follow up with the appropriate action. My 2-year-old still has trouble with the basket symbol and how to proceed when he rolls it, so we’re currently using the basket as though it meant “roll again.” Younger kids also won’t understand the winning/losing aspect of moving the bird along the path, but they’ll get there. I love that this game starts out as a simple roll-and-match game for the youngest players but grows with the kids as they grasp more concepts.

Step 3: Snail’s Pace Race

(Cardboard game board, wooden pieces. Possible choking hazard, so I recommend age 2 1/2 and up, depending on your child’s propensity to stuff things in their mouth.)

Snail Pace Race Game

This is another one that’s not really a game, as there are no winners or losers. Six bright wooden snails are lined up at the starting line for a race, and are moved ahead depending on what the dice say. Players take turns rolling two dice, and moving the snails that correspond to the colors they’ve rolled. This introduces the idea of moving pieces along a board according to what dice tell you. Because sometimes you will roll the same color on both dice, kids will learn how to decide whether a piece needs to move one or two spaces.

Full disclosure: we don’t have this one for our son yet, but we’ve played it at a friend’s house, and it’s on our wishlist for the holidays. He’s asking us to play both Go Away Monster and “the apples game” almost every night, and it’s time to add this one to the rotation.

If you’re looking to get some games for the holidays, definitely consider these. They’ve brought us hours and hours of fun. They’re well made, and can stand up to grabby toddler hands. Absolutely worth the cost.

Note: links above are Amazon affiliate links, and you can learn more about that here. I only link to items I like enough to recommend to actual friends.




The Smashing Of The Bunny

It’s a funny thing, to watch an octogenarian grin wickedly as she crushes a chocolate bunny’s skull in her wrinkled hands.

The Smashing Of The Bunny is a decades-old Easter tradition in my family. Every year, a large hollow chocolate creature of some kind sits at the center of our Easter table, nestled in neon plastic grass, surrounded by Hershey kisses and Cadbury Creme Eggs.  A bunny, a hen, sometimes a squirrel, quietly waiting for us to finish our plates of deviled eggs and honeyed ham.

Waiting to meet its doom.

A different executioner is selected every year, and each family member has a different signature approach to the job. My brother grips the bunny’s ears, and then delivers a sweet right hook to obliterate his belly. More than once, we had to retrieve bunny shards from the kitchen floor. My sister has a clean, top-down approach with the chocolate hens, bringing a swift fist of justice down onto her victim. I am the decapitator, squeezing the hollow neck until I feel a crack, and then lifting the chocolate head high in victory.

When I was first asked to bring dessert to Easter dinner with my in-laws, several years ago, I brought along a lovely chocolate bunny. The family was a little puzzled at first when I explained that after dinner, we would beat him into the chocolate chips from whence he came. Luckily for me, they’re more than happy to include my family’s strange ways with theirs, and we have had a Smashing Of The Bunny every year since. I’m incredibly grateful.

Because Easter isn’t over till a chocolate bunny dies.

Home

This is the 23rd of my “Advent Calendar” Christmas ornament posts. For some background information about this project and why I’m challenging myself to complete it, see here. Note: it’s entirely possible some of these memories are inexact, but I’m sticking with them anyway.

 

 

I was addressing Christmas cards last week and noticed how many addresses I’ve had to cross out as friends and family pack up and move to new places. For some who moved almost annually, I started writing in pencil, because I was running out of space on the page for new addresses. I’ve had eight addresses myself, but I hope that the current one is permanent enough to be safely written in ink.

 

The Little House

I grew up next door to my grandmother’s house, in a tiny red house with a wide porch and a huge yard. There was a birch tree that made me sneeze, and a tamarack tree so tall that I had to lie down on the ground to see the very top without hurting my neck. We played outside a lot. So many trees, and so many summer hours spent sending maple helicopters down the winding rivers we made with the hose in the driveway. There was a path through the cedar hedge to my grandmother’s house, and we could run over for a visit anytime. We could walk to the dépanneur next door and pick out white and purple Mr Freezies from the jumbled pile in the slide-top cooler, paying for them with pockets full of piggy bank change.

 

The Big House

We moved to a different city, twenty minutes away, when I left elementary school. It was a split-level style, with a garage, and a huge backyard for Dad to mow and Mom to plant gardens in. Each of the three kids got our own rooms – mine was gigantic – and there were two living rooms to watch TV in. So much space, in such a classy neighborhood. But it wasn’t a happy place. There was too much anger, contempt, and bitterness in that home. Parents on the brink of divorce, and teenage kids feeling the pressure and acting out in different ways. My parents eventually split up and we had to leave the big house behind. I don’t remember very much about the big house, now. The carpets were blue. Mom planted Wisteria by the fence. I cried in my closet a lot.

 

The Loud Apartment

Dad went to live with his mother for a while during and after the divorce. Mom held the rest of us together and found us an apartment that we could all squeeze into. My sister moved out, and then back in when things didn’t work with her roommates. It was a second-floor apartment on a busy street. The downstairs neighbors hated us; they screamed at us through the floor, banging brooms against the ceiling, threatening us with bodily harm. They said we were too loud, but I think they hated us because we spoke English. We kept the TV quiet, went barefoot, and it was never good enough. The apartment wasn’t really big enough for us all, and my sister was sleeping in the living room. I was going to college by then, and I decided it was my duty to give everyone more space by moving in with Dad for a while, until I could get my own place.

 

Dad’s Place

But Dad didn’t have a place. He was still in my grandmother’s basement while he looked for a condo. I was given one of the upstairs bedrooms and I stayed a few months, but everyone’s personalities clashed and I couldn’t stay. Dad let me get a cat, to cheer me up, but it didn’t help. I had to get out, and moms being moms, I found myself immediately welcomed back to the Loud Apartment. I slept in the living room. Mom let me bring my cat.

 

The Nice Apartment

Mom left the Loud Apartment as soon as she was able to. It wasn’t a healthy place to live. She found a wonderful third-floor walk-up on a quiet street, a block away from a bus stop and a grocery store. We had a parking space and a square of backyard big enough for a patio set and a garden. We had big windows with wide sills for the cat to sit on and pretty views of winter sunrises through the trees. The neighbors mostly minded their own business. My brother and I each had a room, and my sister had moved out again, so we had enough space to breathe. We were happier in that apartment. Mom redid the kitchen, put up flower boxes on the balconies. She’s still in that kitchen or on those balconies with her coffee every morning. This is the place that’s brightest in my memory.

 

My First Apartment

When I moved to Maryland, I didn’t do it the easy way by moving in with my boyfriend. I needed my own place, to prove that I could do it alone. I got an apartment near the hospital I’d be working at, and adopted a cat so I could blame the strange night noises on his prowling. I felt safe enough there, despite the loud foreign-language fights in the parking lot at night and the time a drunk guy banged on my door asking to be let into what he thought was his friend’s place. There was a solid deadbolt on the door, and I had a vicious attack kitten to protect me. I set up cable and internet. I paid bills. I did groceries and cooked for myself every night. I dragged laundry down three flights of stairs to the dingy laundry room and wrestled with the coin slots. I did very well there on my own, but I was lonely in between my boyfriend’s weekend visits.

 

The Townhouse

I moved in with Dave when my lease expired. A year on my own was long enough. I loved his townhouse. We were happy there together. Parking was a creative endeavour because of how few spots were available and how many were taken up by assholes who had driveways and garages they didn’t feel like using. We tripped over the three cats or sat trapped under them on the couch while watching TV. I tried to girl the place up by planting lavender outside, but it grew to monstrous proportions, crowding the walkway with purple stems that were so heavy with bees that we were nervous about walking past. I attempted to cut and dry some in the oven… lavender is thus now forbidden from all gardens, all soaps, all candles, and pretty much everything that comes into or near our home for the rest of eternity.

 

Our Home

We chose this house, together, for our forever home. It’s too big, and it’s too old, and it needs too much work, but we love it. I joke that it’s made of bathrooms and built-in bookshelves, with some bedrooms and a kitchen thrown in. We’ve been here almost three years now and we’ve made incredible progress turning it into the home we want it to be. The mint green and burgundy paint is gone. The jungle in the backyard is under control and the sick trees were cut down. The silver wallpaper is gone, and the stained blue carpet is now beautiful hardwood. It’s familiar now, and comfortable. It feels like us. It smells like us. It’s home.