I know when Miley decided she was ready to play on her own at our LGS. It was during a Journey Into Nyx draft. She was seven years old and sitting on my lap, and when I opened my third pack her eyes opened wide. “Daddy,” she said. “It’s a mythic”.
This is the mythic she saw:
Sadly not all mythics are created an equal, a fact that I hurriedly whispered to her as I took another card and passed the rest of the pack on. She accepted my choice with a disappointed sigh. And eight picks later…
“Daddy. It’s a mythic!”
So I took Worst Fears, which was not only a mythic, but also a mythic in my colors. And in a sudden flash of parental intuiton, I realized I had to put in my deck. Why? Because this draft wasn’t just for me; it was also for Miley. And maybe creating a bond with my child was more important than creating the optimal deck out of my draft pool.
Hahaha, just kidding! No, I put it in to teach her an object lesson that I knew she’d have to learn someday: not all mythics are playable, and some are better left far, far away.
I won the first two rounds, mostly on the strength of never drawing Worst Fears. In the final round I faced off against a strong UW heroic deck. I eked out the first game win when my opponent got mana screwed, but was thoroughly trounced in the second. And it looked like the third game would go the way of the second. I had an empty board and empty hand, while my opponent had a single creature, a heroic Blue flyer - perhaps a War-Wing Siren - loaded up with enchantments, ready to deal lethal once I passed my turn.
I sighed, took what I thought would be my last draw step - and drew Worst Fears.
My daughter gasped in delight. I smiled on the inside - only because I knew that my opponent had no cards in hand. Worst Fears wouldn’t win us the game, I thought as my opponent shot me a puzzled why-are-you-playing-that look and I took my opponent’s draw step. It would just delay the inevitable, and Miley would learn a valuable truth about Magic, that…
I drew Voyage’s End from my opponent’s deck. One bounce and traitorous scry later, his threats were all gone, and that was enough for me to climb back into the game and ultimately win the match.
After that victory, Miley decided she had learned everything she needed to know about Magic. She was ready to spread her wings and fly on her own at the LGS - or she would have been, if I hadn’t held her down. “First,” I told her, “there are some things you need to learn.” Here are some of the things I said.
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Get Ready to Play Against Cards You Hate
Remember when I advised starting out without counterspells or wraths? Well, it’s time to throw that advice into the graveyard! Blow up your child’s army of dinosaurs, counter all their bombs, draw a card for the turn and then say “Pass” with a smirk on your face. Control decks and mass removal are tragic facts of Magic life, and it’s important to expose your kid to them from the safety of your home. There you can gauge their reaction and teach them how to deal with their frustration - which sometimes means acknowledging the fact that, yes, these kind of cards can be annoying… but that’s Magic.
Get Ready to Lose
This is also the moment to stop letting your kid win - well, to stop letting them win as much. They’re almost certainly going to lose a lot - a lot - at your LGS, and it’s important that they understand that. Still, it’s important that your child feels a sense of achievement. Be visibly impressed by their clever plays and their moments of lateral thinking. Congratulate them when they make a game close, and let them know that simply being competitive is something to be proud of.
Your Behavior May Have to Change
Children are often shielded from society (or society is shielded from them), with interactions limited to child-specific environments such as school or a sports team. Those are places where kids can just be kids: sometimes loud, sometimes temperamental, and sometimes lacking a filter between their brain and their mouth.
The LGS is different. People are there to play games, but they’re also there to enjoy their limited time away from jobs and other responsibilities. That means it’s important to understand certain social expectations. Don’t interfere with other people’s games. Keep your negative emotions in check. Lose gracefully. Win gracefully as well, with no showboating or excessive celebration.
Teach your kid these rules, and then teach them that true victory at an LGS comes from becoming an accepted member of the community.
Adults Say Bad Things and Act Weird
The flipside of encouraging your child to watch their behavior is setting their expectations for how people at the LGS will behave. You can hope that no one will make an off-color joke or blurt out a curse word - or you can accept the reality that your child will overhear things that they shouldn’t, and that their curiosity will be piqued. In which case the question becomes: how do you prevent your kid from merrily blurting out their new and exciting vocabulary everywhere they go?
In Miley’s case, I did two things. First, I told her that if she ever had questions about other people’s behavior, she should feel free to ask me - in private. This way I could set the appropriate context for whatever she had heard, and help her understand why such behavior should not be repeated at school.
Second, I told her that if she ever used a curse word, I’d have to stop taking her to the LGS. It wouldn’t be her fault, I said. It would be mine for not realizing that she wasn’t ready to be exposed to such an environment.
Be Ready for Toxic Behavior
And then there’s toxic behavior: players who belittle others, mock their opponent, or make passive-aggressive comments. Hopefully your child won’t have to deal with such people - but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.
First of all, tell your child if they are ever feeling uncomfortable, they should come straight to you.
If another player is being overtly aggressive, step in and tell them to stop. If they persist, report the behavior to the judge or tournament organizer, and if nothing changes then that LGS is a terrible place and you, your child, and everyone else is better off staying away.
Dealing with a passive-aggressive player is more difficult. Miley has had the Misfortune of playing against one such person, and before the match I took her aside and told her that she should feel free to blank out everything else the other person said, and to limit her interactions to terse comments about game actions. Afterwards I sat with her to sympathize and make sure she was feeling okay.
Put Parenting First
I’ve made a lot of suggestions here, but they can all be boiled down to one thing: don’t forget to be a parent. I’ll say it again: at the LGS you are a parent first, and a player second. Don’t be embarrassed to step in and correct your child’s behavior; your kid is used to it, and others will be grateful. Also don’t be embarrassed to step in and shield your child against any situations that are becoming overwhelming. And always be willing to sit down with your kid afterwards and talk about how they felt about the LGS experience. Magic is a fun hobby. The parent-child relationship is forever.
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I drilled Miley for nearly a year before I was comfortable with letting her play on her own. Here’s what I remember of her very first draft deck:
Well, I thought. I guess we’ll see whether she learned to lose with grace.
But naturally Miley had to be contradictory and go 3-0.
