Magic

When Elijah came home from camp last summer, he regaled us with stories of defeating rival Camp Mohawk in the annual camp Olympics and getting lost in the woods and learning to love and watching his friends get picked off by Jason Voorhees’ mom.

Naw, he doesn’t tell us squat. 

He did, however, tell us about a game he played constantly: Magic The Gathering. Diana and I simultaneously gave him a wedgie and swirly.

Despite being a fashionable nerd, I missed Magic The Gathering (MTG). It always felt more like a theater dork game than a band nerd game. But in a desperate attempt to cling to my son in any way shape or form before he leaves for college, I asked him to teach me.

The game is based around collecting little cards with dragons or elves or spells on them. You use them to fight someone else’s dragons or elves. There are tens of thousands of cards in existence, so it is physically impossible for someone to try to buy them all. 

But I was determined to try.

Egged on by Eli, I started buying up cards. Cards that ended up on the floor, in huge piles around the dining room table, under the couch, in my pockets. Diana hates this game with every fiber of her being.

Pretty quickly, we learned the best place to waste our money was at Evanston Games. THE place for Evanston nerds. Eli and I immediately found our home. Eli loves it because EGames is a wonderful, welcoming place that attracts kids who don’t really fit in anywhere else. Lots of gender fluidity, awkwardness, and dorky hairdos. 

EGames loves Eli because he is a naturally charming kid who wants to help anyone and everyone. Plus he is bankrolled by a dad with more money than sense (remind me to tell you about the Simpsons toy collection I just purchased). 

They love me because I like to burst through the door and shout, “I would like to purchase your most expensive card, good people!”

We’ve become so invested in the game that we attend Friday night “drafts.” Which is basically me, plus 12 kids half my age tearing open card wrappers and playing a little round robin tournament.

I am not joking when I say the kids are half my age. The other week I was playing against a ten year old person who identified as “they/them” and they stopped playing to stare at me for a moment.

“Are you a DAD?” they asked.

“Uh, yeah. I’m a dad.”

“Whose dad are you?”

I pointed out Eli. “I’m his dad.”

They stared at me for another beat. Then asked, “Can I have a dollar?”

Yes. Evanston Games kid. You can always have a dollar.