I think it’s pretty clever that hidden inside the “Old MacDonald” nursery rhyme is a spelling lesson. The very first line says, “Old MacDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O!” Thanks to this little lyric, I never forget which letters are vowels—especially during game night, when we play Wheel of Fortune and suddenly my elementary school education is put to the test. Nobody mentioned there would be tests on game night. I didn’t study. Who can study with people making animal sounds all night and day?
Speaking of Wheel of Fortune, I’m starting to think mine might be flat. And since I doubt I can call Ryan Seacrest and ask to borrow Vanna White—because despite the name she isn’t a van—I may need to call Old MacDonald himself to come tow me out with his tractor. At that point, the song probably changes from “E-I-E-I-O” to “E-I-E-I-O-U,” because now I owe him.
Because every time it seems like I’m doing really well in the game—and in life (not The Game of Life)—I land on Bankrupt. Which doesn’t help when the puzzle is a person and reads O_d M__Do___d, and I’m somehow still guessing wrong. Naturally, that’s also when the grand prize turns out to be a brand-new car.
At this point, I usually end up walking away without enough money to buy even a Happy Meal at the other kind of MacDonald entirely—McDonald’s. Between you and me, I could really use a little cheering up—and maybe a strawberry shake. I can also jump right in the ball pit without landing on a Free Play.
So, if it’s all the same this week during game night, I might just ask my girlfriend if we can play something else. Maybe Monopoly instead. I have a feeling I might come out of it with at least a free small fry—if I can fit a tractor in the drive-thru.
