As a small girl I used to bike up the hill a few blocks from my house to my friend’s house.* I’d drop my bike in his driveway, cheeks flushed, and bangs matted with sweat against my forehead. I’d push right inside, without a second thought, hunting down my playmate, in hopes that there was something better to do than watch a long-legged stick bug walk up and down my forearm.
*I’m an elder millennial, so that kind of independence was inconsequential in my youth.
Once, during one of these playdates, I stopped in the doorway to his room stunned to see a cutting-edge, boxy, clunky, white and grey, early-90s, Apple desktop monitor.
I beheld the creme de la creme of the tech game, and my friend was playing chess against a computer. Against a computer.
At seven I was stunned that a computer could play games with you, and if that didn’t sufficiently intimidate me, my friend pushed back the mouse with his sweaty six-year-old paw and announced, “I’m playing chess. This isn’t a game for girls.”
I couldn’t play.
Because I wasn’t enough.
Now this story isn’t meant to function as my personal therapy session / special revelatory journey.
Just serves to explain that every time, ever since, when I’d see a chess board, I’d think it’s got to be too complicated to learn to play.
Then my oldest daughter, with tons of learning challenges, picked up chess at a week-long heart camp. All along I thought chess was too complicated to try myself, and here was my 9-year-old astonishing me (per usual).
How silly to not learn something because you might fail. Right?
Chess is for everyone. Case in point…
By the way — I know how annoying it is when you’re searching for a recipe on the Internet, just trying to find the part that talks about ingredients, and the blogger rambles incoherently for several paragraphs before you get to the point…
This blog post is just like that. Sorry.
If you made it this far, or wisely scrolled down and skipped my malarky, the good news is that Timberdoodle sent us ThinkFun’s Brain Fitness Solitaire Chess in exchange for this wordy review. My kids loved it (and fought over it — it’s single player), and isn’t that the mark of a fun product? When the kids can barely wait for a turn?
Beyond being fun, Solitaire Chess taught my kids the rules of chess and challenged them to flex their spatial reasoning. Chess improves memory, creativity and planning skills. As a homeschool mom, fun and brain-boosting is my favorite combo.
Brain Fitness Solitaire Chess includes pawns and a sturdy, spiral bound booklet with 80 challenges that increase in difficulty ranging from beginner to expert. Gameplay took us almost no time to figure out, and I appreciated the reassurance on the box that read, “Whether you grew up playing chess or can’t tell the difference between a knight and a rook, Solitaire chess is for you!”
Having seen the first Harry Potter movie, my kids did know the names of the pawns. But beyond that, two of my kids were completely uninitiated. However they all sat transfixed watching one another play then happily solved the puzzles too.
I am so glad my kids (even the boy *smirk*) got into this game.
They don’t even realize they’re learning.
I plan on keeping the chess pieces in a bag for ease of transport next time we need an activity on the go. I’m forever doing that. Brain Fitness Solitaire Chess from Timberdoodle would not take up much room and be handy to stash in a backpack or add to your homeschool work shelves. Personally speaking, a small section of our language shelves is devoted to visual-spatial games, and this will be the next material we rotate-in.
All in all another home run from Timberdoodle — although I’m mixing game metaphors now.
So another checkmate?
I love your personal touches with your reviews. The approach is personal and relatable. Eases me into the product on display every time!