Not that kind of STD…

Some of my earliest memories of my parents have them quibbling over a scrabble board. They would both get feisty – tantrum throwing feisty, arguing and quitting games over challenged words feisty, promising to never play again feisty. But play again they always did, and my brother and I would delight in their playful squabbles. We would marvel at the fact that our otherwise very composed parents would go bananas over this game. Watching my mom study the dictionary ahead of time to find all the 2 and 3-letter words, and my dad’s grin as he placed yet another 8-letter word on the board on a triple word score box, or as he would jokingly refer to my mom as “khatar-nak” (diabolical) when she was “chappa-ing” him by even a few points, and her glee at the same, were some of the highlights of my childhood.

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