The Chess Player

So I'm at the bookstore ringing up customers' purchases and this lovely middle-aged woman comes up to the counter with a little boy and girl in tow. They plop their books in front of me and I notice these two:







"He picked his book out by himself." she said to me, pointing at the darling little boy.

I hold up the book for beginners.

"You are going to learn how to play chess?" I ask him.

"No. The other one is for me." he solemnly says.

I look at the Bobby Fischer book and then at his grandmother.

"He wants the Bobby Fischer book?"

"Yes, He picked it out himself."

I studied this serious little guy for a minute.

"How old are you?" I ask.

"Four." He says. But he is a very very small four year old. I wish I had my camera but I did not, but to give you some idea, here is a photo I found on the web of a child approximately this little guy's size:




I ask, "Well, who is the beginner book for?"

"Me." Grandmother says, sheepishly. "I figure if he can learn so can I."

I ring up their books and ask the boy, "Are you familiar with Bobby Fischer?"

"Yeah. I like his moves."

"Which is your favorite move of his?"

He studies me for a second and I can see a twinkle in his eye.

"Winning." he answers.

"Mine too. "I tell him.

I don't know what you were doing at four years old, but I can promise you, I was not playing chess.