In our house, we have an ottoman.
It's one of those padded affairs, bought when our kids were tiny and seemingly intent on falling sideways into every blessed thing, their target, I swear, the delicate temples on either side of their heads.
In addition to preventing brain damage, the ottoman is hollow, lidded with two (padded) squares that can be lifted to reveal two (padded) storage spaces. These are stacked full of games: games that teach number recognition and manipulation, games to help preserve and enhance memory, games that teach and expand vocabulary, games that cause tears and murderous threats and bring our children to the brink of going all Cain and Abel on each other.
The latter game, of course, is Sorry!
What is with that game? Our kids fight with each other, sure, but only Sorry! elicits Lord of the Flies-level passion and violence and cries for a certain brother's head on a pike. Sorry! may be a rip-off of Parcheesi, but at least the name is more accurate- although if you really wanted to give potential buyers an idea of what they're in for, perhaps No Fair! or I HATE You! would be a little more fitting.
This happens every six months or so: The kids dig out the dreaded game, I think that maybe this time they'll be able to play like human beings not destined for death row (put that one in the full-to-bursting "Lies I Tell Myself" file), and I chirp, "Sure! Why not? Go ahead and play Sorry!"
You know what comes next: Accusations. Weeping. Literal bloodshed, as in I have cleaned blood off the board four times in the last three days. (Okay, so that was because Atticus has suffered a spate of nose bleeds recently, and they've been so intent on playing that he keeps dripping on the board before he realizes what's happening. I will admit to being tempted to take a picture of this somewhat gruesome sight and printing off copies to wave in our children's faces every time they ask to play in the future.)
In related news, our children are learning to shake hands and growl, "Good game," even while supremely pissed.