Before the tumour came along, B and I played a lot of scrabble. During the day at work we’d play a few moves on Words with Friends or WordFeud, on our phones. He would usually win. This irked me, not only because I feel I have a decent vocabulary and good grasp of English, but because English is B’s second language, so he really shouldn’t be very good at it.
Word games went on hiatus after the surgery, when the speech dysphasia made it difficult for B to locate words to say, let alone create words from scrambled letters. However, as his condition improved, his speech therapist mentioned that scrabble would be good for him to pick up again.
My first gleeful thought was ‘I’m going to kill him!’ Second. Second thought. Naturally my first thought was ‘that will be a really useful way for B to practice his language skills’.
At first he was a bit rusty. I revelled in my victories and did not go easy on him. That would be patronising.
On my way home yesterday I got a text from B that simply said ‘woo hoo!’ Awww, I thought. He’s having a spontaneous moment of happiness about our impending marriage. But no. It was a reaction to the NINETY SIX POINT WORD he had just scored. We are now back to the usual state of affairs, where he wins and I sulk.