I'm Turning into My Father

For years I've made fun of my dad for his solitaire obsession. He can happily spend hours in front of the computer, electronically shuffling his cards and testing his luck. I never understood it.

Until December of 2008, when I was eight months pregnant with Clara. I picked up a deck of cards and didn't put them down for a month. Even when my in-laws were here for Christmas, I shuffled away, trying not to be too horribly anti-social. But I was a woman obsessed.

Two and a half years later, here we are again. Eight months pregnant, and the cards are on the table, beckoning. I'll doubtlessly play another game before I go to bed. What is with this?

The thing is, I'm apparently really good at solitaire when I'm really pregnant. I've always thought that it was more of a game of luck than anything. Maybe a year ago, I picked up the cards and won a game while I lost five others. Now, I win five games for every one I lose. The odds were the same the last time my obsession reared it's ugly head (or huge belly).

So does that mean that I'm especially lucky when I play cards when really pregnant? Let's go to Vegas and find out!

(Of course, I'd BETTER be especially lucky if I were to go to Vegas now, because if the baby comes early, while we're in Vegas . . . I'll need all those ill-gotten gains to pay for the uninsured US birth. So I think I'll stay put.)