I spent the three day weekend appropriately stuffing my face and catching up with Friends With Kids. Strangely, a lot of my friend's kids seemed to have been replaced with bigger kids.

Towards the end of the day, I got my ass whooped at chess by an 8-year-old. Of course, I have no idea how to play chess. But still...he's 8! Not to mention, I had a secret weapon (Friend Who Rocks At Chess) whispering in my ear.

"Why do you have to wait for him to tell you what to do?" said 8-year-old Chess Champ.

"Because you're kicking my ass...I mean, you're going to beat me."

"Haha! I'm going to kill all your pieces!!!"

The thing about 8-year-olds is that you can't offer up condescending, eye-ball rolling comments about their lack of sportsmanship. It's one thing to deal with grown men who act like children. But any psychologist would classify his behavior as "age appropriate." (Why can't I be 8?) Nonetheless, I kept wanting to revert to my usual, "You're acting like a child. What are you? 8?!"

"Gosh....why are you taking so long?!" he kept asking before my deft (and instructed) moves.

"Because I'm a rank amateur," I told him.

"But you're not even good."

"Haha...you don't know what 'rank amateur' means."

I didn't exactly maintain a demeanor of mature stoicism.

But he was ruthless! Stopping not even at employing his own transparent version of psychological warfare techniques.

"If I were you," he said at one point. "I would move the queen to the right."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because I'm trying to teach you how to play."

"No, don't do that!" said my friend.

His dad told me that he lets him win sometimes because if he loses he will cry.

"But that's what life's about," I told The Dad. "Better that he learn it now."

Giant sigh.

Just for today, I can play with kids.