Surly's Soap Box

As I was cooking dinner tonight, my hyper-intelligent, incredibly beautiful daughter posed to me a question that I hoped I won't hear for many years:

"Daddy, can we go to Chucky Cheese?"

My minds eye immediately conjured visions of the flashing lights, ringing bells, the squeal of out of control children, the worn, tired, beleaguered parents wondering, "Why the heck did we even order pizza? We can't get them to sit down long enough to scarf a piece!" Or worse, the parents who ignore their kids unless copious amount of blood are spilled. "Sit down Jimmy! And don't flail your arms! Your getting blood everywhere!" But the bells! THE BELLS!

"Sorry Honey. We can't"

"But Daddy, I have a coupon."

A coupon! Those bastards. Do they think they can tempt me with a mere 10 free tokens?

"Where did you get the coupon?"

"It was in the juice box box."

"Well, we won't be buying those anymore."
"What?", she asks.
"Nothing, nothing. Sorry dear, but we can't go there."

Quickly, I attempt to redirect her attention, "Don't you like daddies cooking?", but just as quickly, she ends that line of attack with, "I like your cooking, but I want to go to Chucky Cheese."

"Sorry Kiddo...We don't go to Chucky Cheese."

Pleadingly she asks, "But whyyyy?”

If your a parent, you know the look. A combination of puppy dog eyes, endearment, and manipulation. I quickly turn back to cooking to avoid being sucked into the tractor beam. Think! THINK! THINK! I had to come up with a plausible reason. A reason that would satisfy her curiosity and instill in her the idea that her daddy is watching out for her.

"Because Satan eats there."

Great! Of all the ways to introduce the concept of the devil into our household! Maybe confusion will work!


Silence.

Squinted eyes.

Pondering...

"Satan doesn't eat there. A big mouse eats there."

"That's Satan. He wears the helmet to cover up his horns. Besides, You wouldn't want to eat somewhere that has a big mouse running around, would you?"

Silence. She knows there is a flaw in my defense that her 3 year old mind can't quite plumb.

"But George eats there. Other kids from pre-school eat there."

Getting down on one knee so I could look her in the eye, "That's because their parents don't love them, honey."

She left the room, deep in thought. Over all, I'd say handled that quite well.



But no, we aren't going to Chucky Cheese. Ever.


James Lileks,Humor