The King is Dead, Long Live the King

It was only a matter of time, but I didn’t think it would come this soon. My son soundly beat me in chess. On his third try. Of course, it wasn’t a fair match. He’s been reading up and studying strategy for weeks, I just agreed to play a game. Like a well-trained sprinter racing the 50-yard dash against an old, slightly overweight spectator. I didn’t even have a chance, but really and truly thought that I could win.

To describe the game, I present to you the following documentary:

However in this case, I’m the little girl and my son is the dad. To be honest with you, I didn’t even see it coming until it was too late.

Not that he didn’t warn me, but I just kept on taking his pieces one by one, and thought I’d go for the jugular. But then, he said he had checkmate in 1 or 2 moves, and he did. I present to you the final board setup. (I was black, and it was my move):

Wow, beat by my own 7 year old, fair and square. Attaboy!