After two hours of whacking on ground-hog heads, shooting Storm Troopers, and racing speed boats, it was time to cash in and head out. Sixty-nine tickets were collected – an amount I felt was respectable and certainly deserving of the $.25 Glow in the Dark key chain my oldest was saving for. However, it required 70 tickets in order for him to qualify for such a prize. I looked at the lady behind the counter (whose attitude didn’t seem consistent with her nametag which read “Having Fun is My Job”) and asked if she could spot my son an extra ticket. She gave me a lecture about how she couldn’t make an exception for my child without offering exceptions for all of the children at the restaurant.

During her reprimand, I glanced around and saw a stray ticket on the floor. I quickly grabbed it before the boy standing next to us with 2000 tickets spotted me. Although she wasn’t thrilled with my methods, she took the extra ticket and handed my son the key chain. We made our escape and headed home. While in the car, I made note of the time and began the countdown for when my son would forget about his key chain and move onto bigger and better things. It took 7 minutes and 22 seconds. By the time we arrived home, the key chain was left on the floor of my car – forgotten, never to be thought of again.

I was amused thinking of myself, on my hands and knees, scouring a floor covered with smashed pizza in search of a ticket for my child to buy a toy he will enjoy for less time than it takes to sit through an episode of Sponge Bob. However, it is that fleeting moment when you child looks at you like a hero and experiences a moment of pure joy that makes it all seem worth it. Or, maybe not – I can’t get the pizza stains out of the knees of my new sweat pants!