Of course, I crushed her.
She played reasonably well, for a little girl who knows hardly anything compared to the inches and inches of useless information stored in my skull. She took the beating admirably considering she also had to put up with my arguing over technicalities such as “a” versus “the” in an answer, my frequent “accidental” upending of her playing piece while I reached for the die, and my cheating attempts of changing answers like “warm-blooded” and “eye of a hurricane” to “fart- blooded” and “bellybutton of a hurricane”, respectively, when she answered correctly. After about a half hour, she had had enough.
“Dad, if you say 'Orange you glad I didn’t say banana' ONE MORE TIME when you land on an orange square, I’m gonna stuff all of your pie pieces up your nasal cavity, through your temporal lobes and scramble your hippocampi so that you will never have the cognitive faculty to compete at this game ever again!”
So, we called it a draw.
Now that I think about it, she may have been letting me win.
