We size up the contestants as if they were representing our dreams, instead of theirs, race to spew out the answers, grimace and twist in our seats as a contestant agonizes over what appears to us an easy answer, and begrudgingly admit when we don't know the answer. Like a record number of households across the country, 'Millionaire' has become a ritual in our household. Dinner is rushed. Sometimes dishes are left undone to soak.
Homework grinds to a halt.
And the little one shuffles off to her bedroom in despair at being knocked off The Cartoon Network. I tried to be a contestant one night. I dialed the 1-800 number on a lark. I am the same one who got a busy signal once dialing the phone company, but on the third try I was shocked to hear a ring on the other end of the line, followed by a welcome to the 'Millionaire' contest line. After excitedly registering my name, age and phone number, I was told I would be given 10 seconds to place in specified order four answers.