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So, I hadn’t enrolled the Nibster in any “enrichment” classes thus far, because there’s nothing more valuable and vital for a child than unstructured free play. Ok, fine, the more likely reason I didn’t do it is because I’m too lazy to stroller around the ‘hood with Chewy in tow. And too cheap. And jaded to a point where I feel that if everyone’s doing it, it must be wrong (unless it’s using the Superbowl as an excuse to get sinfully tipsy on a Sunday evening and bury one’s face in fully-loaded nachos).

But, I digress. This is about Nibbles. Perhaps it was a combination of peer pressure and overexposure to indoor heating, but I caved. It suddenly didn’t make sense to chain the lads indoors for 6 months of the year while they left butt-prints on the couch thanks to the babysitter (read: TV). They needed exercise to release their energy and fresh air to feed their spirits.

Ergo, I’m proud to declare that after weeks of pestering on his part, I signed Nibbles up for chess. What? Don’t snicker. Chess *is* a sport, no? Well, at least our deal involves sufficient walking in nose-nipping weather in order to perk up appetites of boys with MothersWhoCan’tCook. Money well spent, eh?

Oh, but of course it’s not about the money. I’m doing this as part of my hair-greying mission of raising feminists and gay advocates. How can you go wrong with a game where The Queen is the most powerful piece?

Now, to the important question — I know the whole Soccer Mom stereotype, but is Chess Mom a radical phenomenon? What would a Chess Mom wear? Combat boots, Matrix-y trench coat and plaid tights, I hope. Is this one of those unexplored bastions of mommy fashion where opinions such as mine could morph into trends?

Edited to add: screw you, Google, destroyer of all hopes of creativity! Obviously I live under a massive menhir.