And so it begins. Through years of careful observation (and therapy), I have identified exactly three triggers that cause my wife and sister-in-law to turn into beasts. Consider this your survival guide. Trigger #1: The First Betrayal For the first five minutes of any game, there is détente. They cooperate. They giggle. They pretend to be normal. But then comes the First Betrayal—the moment one sister does something even mildly competitive to the other. Perhaps Emily builds a road that blocks Sarah’s longest route. Maybe Sarah buys the last development card Emily was eyeing.
I think it’s “Good game.”
The air changes. A low growl emerges. Not a literal growl (usually), but a venomous whisper: “Oh, you want to play that way?” My Wife and Sister in law Turn Into Beasts When...
But the moment I slide the lid off a dusty Settlers of Catan box or unfold a Ticket to Ride board, something primal awakens. It’s as if the scent of fresh cardboard and the rattle of wooden tokens trigger a chemical reaction in their shared bloodstream. Their pupils dilate. Their breathing becomes shallow. The word “fun” suddenly means “dominance.” And so it begins
These rule disputes often end with one sister flipping the table. Not metaphorically. Literally. We now play games on a weighted picnic table. This is the big one. This is the nuclear option. When the game isn’t going their way, one sister will inevitably weaponize shared history. It starts small: “This is just like the time you didn’t invite me to your birthday party in third grade.” Then it escalates: “Mom always let you win at Candy Land, and you’re still coasting on that unearned confidence.” Trigger #1: The First Betrayal For the first
And I don’t mean playful, nudging-each-other-on-the-couch beasts. I mean full-blown, hair-trigger, monopoly-money-tearing, rule-book-ripping, ancestral-resentment-unearthing beasts. If you’ve never witnessed two adult women who share DNA, a childhood bedroom, and a deep-seated grudge over who broke whose Cinderella snow globe in 1998 go to war over a fake red hotel on Boardwalk, then you haven’t lived. Or, perhaps more accurately, you haven’t hidden under a blanket while adult women scream about turn order. Let me paint a picture for you. Emily is 34, a pediatric nurse. She calms crying infants for a living. Sarah is 32, a librarian. She specializes in quietude and the Dewey Decimal System. By all accounts, they are rational, loving, kind-hearted people. They hug hello. They share recipes. They tag each other in cute animal videos on social media.
I learned this the hard way. If you win against one sister, the other will ally with her against you. If you win against both, you have signed your own death warrant. Your goal is not to win. Your goal is to come in a dignified third place.