… the blood-thirsty, egomaniac conqueror.
I have told Luca about the many times Nana trashed Uncle Martin and I at Risk when we were young. He listened, but he did not truly believe me.
I have told him of how each new game ended in tears of frustration and bitter defeat, as we never managed to win a single game. It piqued his interest.
I have told him of how one winter Sunday afternoon, the game of Risk was binned by Nana, as both Uncle Martin and I were in tears yet one more time, and Nana declared that she was sick of this game, and that she loathed the military, and that she did not ask to rule the world. But couldn’t help it. Luca listened, but he thought that he had a winning chance.
He insisted that we should bring the board with us for the long weekend.
Nana trashed us.
But he did not cry. I am so proud of him.