The Chessmaster and his Princess-Opponent

Today I got a call at work. I soon figured out that the squeaky voice was Ian's. I presumed that the call was about the stag beetle that I set free, and I was partially correct: Ian began the conversation, when I asked him how he was doing, by telling me that he missed his stag beetle. However, for the most part, I was wrong: Ian soon cut to the chase:

"Daddy, I forgot what the bishop does."

Yes, this call was about chess. After yesterday's game, Ian had somewhat forgotten how the bishop moves on the board, so he called to ask. I explained to him that the bishop moves diagonally "on a skateboard" - I wish I had thought of this metaphor, but it came from a children's introductory chess set that the boys got for Christmas. Yes, the bishop can move as many spots in one diagonal direction as space permits - until he hits up against something or captures something. Ian had thought that the bishop could move only one space at a time:

"Me and Madeleine were playing, and I moved one step forward with my bishop."

So he forgot that the bishop can move multiple spaces if such a trajectory is available to him (or her, if your an Anglican...). But what was really beautiful was the larger context: he needed to remember how the chess pieces move because he was in the middle of a game... with Madeleine! The seven-year-old was playing chess with the three-year-old.

Somehow, it didn't surprise me that this particular hobby had skipped the middle child. According to Ian, Daniel hates chess, and I can understand that: I hated chess at his age (although of course I had no idea how to play it). Daniel and I are cut of the same cloth - hence the endless quips from everyone we know about how appropriate it is that we have the same name. We're Boys of Action - we don't want to sit around stairing at a grid, imagining how to move plastic pieces from a pre-democratic era, when we could be doing something dramatic and memorable. I have an interest in chess now, but this is after several decades of getting other stuff out of my system.

Somehow it seems appropriate that one child can be the contemplative intellectual, another can be the Army of One, and Madeleine can simply fit in anywhere she chooses. And I also found it heart-warming that Ian wanted to include Madeleine, completely undaunted by her toddlerhood, and was so eager to use his new "toy" that she was sufficient companionship for a follow-up to yesterdays' match between him and me.

When Amy called later in the afternoon, she was on her way to a children's theater so they could all watch Cinderella. As perfect as this prospect was for Madeleine, Ian was the official Dissenter, and made it clear he didn't want to go - not because the play was girly-girl-themed, but because he'd rather be home doing something else. I was wondering what that "something else" was, and it turned out to be playing chess. This seems like a fitting book-end to our children's favorite activities, with watching Cinderella somewhere in the middle, and "touching a firework," Daniels dream which even he admits is not really feasible, at the other end of the shelf.

(July 5, 2011)