“If you want to beat the pants off your friends, here’s what you do,” Big Papa told my 11-year old niece, April, on our recent trip back east to visit family. “When you control the center of the board and keep your king safe, that’s how you’ll win the game,” he continued to her rapt attention. “So, I’ll give you a tip. You need to move your king to a safe position away from the center and your rook into the king’s place in the center.” “It’s called ‘castling’.”

“Ok, ok,” she says with one eye on the miniscule travel chessboard set and the other on the piece of cheesecake lying in front of her on the table. Big Papa explains how it’s a special move that you can only pull out of your hat once. Plus, it’s a showstopper because you get to move two pieces at the same time.

April considers this advice and zip, zip, her rook and king do the do-si-do, sidle by each other and trade places. She sits facing Big Papa with a smug grin on her face. “Good job,” he tells her.

My heart is just beaming. I’m so in love with my husband. Seeing him coach her makes me proud. He is smart and sensitive and patient. I know he will be an amazing father.

Having a good time with an 11-year old is easy with April. In our oh-so-very-biased opinions, she is by far one of the coolest kids on the planet. That she’s even interested in chess, takes her coolness quotient up a notch or two. But April is not our kid, she’s my sister’s kid and she lives 3,000 miles away.

Every year when we see her, she’s shot up another foot or so and has acquired at least a dozen new interests. We feel fortunate that she’s still in the phase where she thinks Aunt Beth and Big Papa, are funny enough to generate a few laughs, know a thing or two, and are a blast to hang out with. It’s only a matter of time before hormones and teen-age years kick into high gear and then all bets are off. As long as it lasts, we try to enjoy every giggle and hug that comes our way.

As I watch the two of them jostle their chess pieces and each other, my mind drifts off imagining how it might be when we have a kid of “our own.” I know raising a kid is a lot of work and it won’t always be chess and cheesecake. Still, I long for moments like this, together, in the comfort of our castle, the Urban Cabin.

In my fantasies, I walk with my kid to the Central District Friday Farmer’s Market and watch the chocolate drip down his face as he nurses a Snoqualmie ice cream bar while we pick out potatoes and peas for our weekend feast. I visualize Big Papa explaining why it’s important to hold the nail just-so, when you bring the hammer down, so you drive the nail, not your thumb, into the 2×4.

For now though, it’s all a dream. I’m watching other people’s cute kids, not mine. Lately I find it incredibly hard to believe this will be us one day. After our trip to Armenia a month ago, I feel numb more than anything else. The truth is right now we don’t control a darn thing on the board.

Back home from our east coast adventure, Big Papa and I distract ourselves with talk of tiles and cabinets as we remodel the Urban Cabin. For the time being, we’ve moved our castle to the center, to create a safe haven and protect the king and queen.