When the Mosquitoes Win
There is something magical about summer evenings in the Northwoods of Wisconsin. As the sun begins to sink behind the trees, the lake takes on a golden glow and the air feels just a little softer. After a day filled with boating, swimming, tubing, skiing, surfing, fishing, and family time, there is nothing better than gathering together on the deck, sharing stories and enjoying each other's company.
One evening during our recent family vacation, seventeen of us had gathered outside for dinner. The dishes had been cleared away, the day was winding down, and no one seemed to be in a hurry to go anywhere. We were simply enjoying being together.
Then the mosquitoes arrived.
And not just a few mosquitoes.
I'm talking about the kind that seem to appear out of nowhere and immediately make their presence known. At first, we all tried to ignore them. We swatted a little, shifted in our chairs, and continued our conversations. But before long it became obvious that we were fighting a losing battle.
One by one, people began retreating indoors. Within a matter of minutes, all seventeen of us had abandoned the deck and found ourselves inside the cabin.
Now, in some families, that might have signaled the end of the evening.
Not in ours.
My daughter Hannah has always loved games. It really doesn't matter what kind. Card games, board games, word games, party games, she loves them all. Over the years she has collected decks of playing cards from all over the United States and the world. Even when there isn't a game readily available, she usually has one tucked away in the back of her mind that can be played at a moment's notice.
She is also incredibly competitive.
I often joke that her competitive spirit was developed during her childhood years trying to keep up with her older brother, Andrew. She was constantly trying to prove she could beat him, outsmart him, or do something better than he could. Of course, Andrew was equally determined to prove otherwise.
The result was years of playful sibling rivalry that continues to this day.
Once we were all inside, it didn't take long before a game was being presented. Soon we were gathered around playing one of those phone games where one person holds the phone to their forehead while everyone else gives clues to help them guess the word or phrase.
Everyone took turns being the guesser, and before long the room was filled with laughter.
Then someone suggested we play a round where clues could only be acted out.
That is when things got really interesting.
At first, everyone gave it a reasonable effort. People acted out clues while the guesser tried to figure out the answer. But somewhere along the way, Hannah and Andrew found themselves front and center.
Watching the two of them was absolutely hilarious.
It was almost as if they could read each other's minds. One would start acting out a clue and the other would immediately jump in. They weren't really competing anymore. Instead, they seemed to be working together without even discussing it.
One clue would end and another would begin, and the two of them would instantly launch into a new performance.
At one point, the clue was "crab walk."
Without hesitation, both of them bent their knees, transformed their hands into giant crab pinchers, and began moving sideways across the floor. They were so committed to the performance that they didn't seem to notice the rest of us were doubled over with laughter.
Tears were streaming down faces.
People could barely catch their breath.
Meanwhile, Hannah and Andrew just kept going.
Watching them instantly transported me back to their childhood. When they were younger, both participated in Destination Imagination, a program that encouraged creative thinking, problem solving, teamwork, and performing in front of groups. Looking at them now, I realize those experiences helped shape who they became.
Both are comfortable stepping into the spotlight.
Both are willing to look a little silly.
And both know how to create joy for the people around them.
As their mother, there is something incredibly special about witnessing that. They are adults now with lives, careers, and responsibilities of their own. Yet every now and then I catch a glimpse of the children they once were, and it fills my heart.
The mosquitoes may have chased us indoors that evening, but looking back, I think they gave us a gift.
Had we remained outside, we probably would have continued sitting on the deck talking as the sun went down. Instead, we found ourselves gathered in one room laughing until our stomachs hurt.
It reminded me that sometimes the interruptions we resist become the moments we treasure most. Plans change. Weather shifts. Mosquitoes invade. And somehow, out of the inconvenience comes something even better than what we originally planned.
Years from now, I doubt anyone will remember how bad the mosquitoes were that night. But I have a feeling we'll remember Hannah and Andrew crab walking across the floor, completely committed to the clue while the rest of us laughed ourselves silly.
Sometimes the best memories aren't the ones we plan. They're the ones that surprise us when we least expect them. And that's exactly why, on this particular summer evening, when the mosquitoes win, everybody else wins too.
xo, Sheryl
To order the updated and hard copy of The 6 Step Path to Self-Love Workbook.
You can find Imperfectly Charming wherever you listen to your podcasts. Or click here now to listen to the trailer on Apple, Spotify or my RSS Feed.
Conversations with My Soul Course
Download My Gift to You (and access to my weekly newsletter)
To join my free private community with live coaching and exclusive content.