Two Choices, Though Not Both Alike in Dignity

This is much earlier in the day than I normally write. It was a hectic day today. We had church first thing, then a birthday celebration for our resident dinosaur expert. Simultaneously, Bekah was in our town's Independence Day parade.

The parade steps off at 1 PM. The birthday celebration started at 12:30 PM. I had to make a choice about which to attend. I had to drop Bekah off at 12:30, then go station myself at the end of the parade route so that I could pick her up. Our town doesn't normally see that much traffic, so it can get pretty clogged. I have a tried-and-true parking spot, near the end of the parade route but also out-of-the-way. I do everything I can to avoid the festival parking.

I could have left her, stopped by the celebration and then left, but the timing would have been tricky. I would have had to get across town in a relatively short amount of time. I didn't want to risk Bekah getting anxious because I wasn't there immediately at the end of the parade.

Truth be told, I was a teensy bit okay with missing the celebration.

Let me explain.

Our go-to celebration spot is Chuck E. Cheese. We have a wide range of ages to accommodate. Brooklyn, my youngest, is 3-years-old. My nephew, Scott, is 2-years-old. On the other end, Jeremy will be 12 this September. It's tough to find a spot that can appeal to all ages.

Doug had recently traveled to Main Event with Jeremy as part of a NISRA outing. In the past couple of weeks, he made an appeal to my dad to move the celebration. I voted him down. My understanding is that Main Event is geared toward kids that are a little bit older. Brooklyn and Scott would not have had much to do.

I remember Chuck E. Cheese fondly from my youth. There are pictures (actual, printed photos) of me having my birthday party there one year. (I also remember Showbiz Pizza, just so you get a sense of how old I am.)

Because we visit Chuck E. Cheese for everyone's birthday, over the past two or so years, we've been there like eight times. That is, quite frankly, seven times too many.

It is my firm belief that Chuck E. Cheese is the training ground for Vegas. Upon entering, every single one of your senses is immediately assaulted. All the games have noises, and lights. Some vibrate. Most give tickets.

It has occurred to me, as I'm sure it has occurred to every parent who has ever surveyed the prize wall at Chuck E. Cheese, that a trip to the dollar store would be cheaper and quicker. There are non-crappy prizes toward the ceiling, illuminated by lights. I'm surprised that they don't have a track of angels singing on the quarter hour, just to highlight their magnificence.

Let's be frank. If I saved every voucher we ever printed from every time we ever visited for five years, we may have enough tickets to get one of those prizes.

Earning tickets is a fool's errand. There are some games where a modicum of skill is involved, like shooting hoops, playing skee ball or jumping over a lighted circle. The rest *seem* simple and easy to win, but of course are weighted toward the house (or toward the mouse, wink wink).

One of the games is Plinko, of course from the Price is Right. I kid you not, I have spent at least 15 minutes there, feeding tokens in, convinced that I'm just one token away from winning the jackpot.

Even there, the word jackpot would normally evoke elation, but I assure you, it doesn't and it shouldn't. Even if I won 100 tickets, I'd still be relegated to the lowest tier of prize possibilities.

So you enter, and are immediately assaulted on all fronts. After about half an hour, my brain shuts down. I can't carry on a conversation because in addition to the assault on my senses, my kids are running back and forth, dropping off their beloved tickets at the table.

Meanwhile, Brian and I usually tag team Brooklyn duty. She is too little to be left to her own devices. She is also too little to operate any of the games very well. But she's at the age where she *thinks* that she is old enough to do everything on her own. Anyone who offers to help her will be rebuffed. She is a pretty typical 3-year-old, who feels like she is a big girl and can therefore do all the things big girls should be able to do.

Let me assure you, she can't. Brian told me that today's visit was especially exhausting. She kept wanting to play games that were *just* out of her skill set. She wanted to play them as they were intended, but that required a gentle nudge, which she firmly rejected every time Brian tried to offer. So mostly, he followed her around and tried to reason with a 3-year-old. This is also a fool's errand.

Now, the absolute worst part of the entire trip is trying to be judicious in picking out prizes. I will admit, I have held onto several trips' worth of vouchers just to avoid having to haggle over who gets what prize. With four kids, the name of the game is always fairness. I have to try to get everyone the same (or closely similar items). Which means, after being assaulted and having my brain shut down, I have to sit and calculate how many tickets we have and how those tickets can be divided by four. Then, I have to look at the crappy prizes (which, as you recall, are almost all cheaper at the dollar store) and decide how I can get four sets of crappy prizes that are similar enough.

I'm tired just recounting the whole procedure.

Normally, by the end of the visit, I just want to get out of there. I want to breathe fresh air, listen to the birds chirp and close my eyes. It seriously becomes like a military exercise, trying to get the six of us, all of our presents (remember, we are celebrating someone's birthday), the leftover pizza, cupcakes, etc., out of the restaurant and into the van.

It makes me incredibly grateful that we only visit there four times a year (Scotty and Brooklyn's birthdays are close in proximity, so we combine their celebrations for now). Sometimes, the kids will come across the play cards (little credit cards that they swipe at every machine) and say, "mom, maybe we could go to Chuck E. Cheese!"

I typically use one of their well-worn strategies and pretend I don't hear them. It doesn't always work, so I go to the next tier of dismissal--"we'll see." (As Jeremy pointed out to Doug one time, "the good news is, mommy didn't say no. The bad news is she didn't say yes, either.") That phrase is the universal sign of "please lose interest in that idea so we don't have to do it, ever."

All of that being said, I know that the kids enjoy it. I am glad that my parents are generous enough to be able to provide the experience. I'm also glad that my kids still want to participate in things like that, with their parents around. I know the time is fast-approaching where they will ask to be dropped off at the roller rink. (I also am kind of looking forward to that, but I'm trying to not wish my time away.)

Also, you can see why I chose to stand in the blazing hot sun.