It started like any other casual game night. A few rounds of Mario Kart (I let her win, obviously), some snacks, a juice box negotiation, and then… the challenge:

“Let’s play Tic Tac Toe, Daddy!”

Easy, I thought. I’ve been playing Tic Tac Toe since before she existed. This wasn’t just a game, this was generational dominance. This was strategy. Math. Legacy.

I should’ve known right then.

By move four, I felt something was… off. By move six, I saw it: the trap. My own daughter had cornered me. I looked down at the paper and realized…I had no legal moves left. She won. Fair and square.

“I win, Daddy!”
Cue triumphant juice box sip.

She didn’t just beat me, she styled on me. A 6-year-old just checkmated me in crayon. I stared at the board like it was a crime scene. How had I let this happen? Did I… forget how to Tic Tac Toe?

The worst part? She immediately demanded a rematch, with that look in her eye. The look of a child who just realized she’s more powerful than her creator.

That night I learned two things:

1. Tic Tac Toe is not as simple as I remembered.

2. My daughter is an evil genius in pigtails.

So if you ever find yourself laughing at the idea of being beaten in a kid’s game, beware. They’re always watching. Learning. Planning.
And one day…they’ll strike. Right in the center square.