AUSTIN, TX -- As I pull into parking lot and navigate the minivan maze, my two-and-four-year-old finally discover their mystery destination. Chants of "Chuck-Eee, Chuck-Eee!" reverberate around the car interior. I have just been elevated to the rarefied air of the greatest dad of this or any century.
What's the allure of a freakish animitronic rat who plays skee ball? Is it his culinary art? Certainly not. Chuck E. makes Chef Boyardee and the Red Baron look four star. To say that the rat uses only the freshest ingredients is not advertising hyperbole -- truly the freshest rubber and sawdust.
Is it Chuck E.'s value for the dollar? Nay. The wily businessmouse converts all monetary inputs into a smoke-and-mirrors economy of "tokens" and "prize tickets." I never know what I've spent there until Visa informs me 30 days later.
Could it be the rodent's penchant for hospitality which brings fathers and son and daughters together in bonds of filial love? Alas, no. After arrival, children only make one or two visitations to the parents' table, often when token supplies have dwindled. In the absence of any company or conversation, guess who typically eats the entire so-called pizza?
I know the formula of the secret sauce. I know why kids salivate like Pavlov pups when Chuck E. ad spots invade their Saturday morning cartoons. Chuck E. Cheese's is purely, unapologetically, and thoroughly all about kids. (How do I know this? Because the Chuckster offers no adult beverages which would make the daddy experience more bearable.) In a world that caters to adult politics and pleasures, Chuck E. brings a birth-through-fifth-grade Xanadu to strip malls everywhere. Parents do not walk into the rat's domain with ulterior motives. No, on the part of the mom or dad, the visit is an act of selfless love and sacrifice, though this father has been known to mention Chuck E.'s name in the same sentence as a bribe or threat.
It's a child-centered affair. "These next two hours are all about what you want, my prince/princess."
My four-year-old has just dropped a fourth token into Chuck E.'s photography booth. Shortly, he'll be delivering another computer generated memory of his afternoon of bliss. He's smiling in every one, but never able to make it to the center of the picture. My two-year-old daughter has somehow managed to get to the third level of the virtual reality skateboarding game. God, please don't let her grow up to be Avril Lavigne.
My parents endured ordeals like this for me circa 1980. Little league baseball. Summer days at the pool. Christmas mornings under mounds of wrapping paper. For moments here and there, it was all about me. Were they spoiling me? If you asked my much older three brothers, they would declare "yes" and then mutter stories about walking to school barefoot in the snow and getting their big wheels second-hand. Sure, indulging a child with whatever they want 24/7/365 is a recipe for entitlement. But every once in a while, it can only be described as grace.
My boy whips a skee ball that flies out of his alley and lands in one of the holes of the kid playing next to him. No buzzers sound. Nobody calls foul. We all just laugh. It's the day of Jubilee.
I love giving like this.
Not as a reward to my kids for taking out the trash for ten days in a row or for making a grade. Not as a diversion to get them out of the house and away from one another's throats. I love giving because she's my girl. He's my boy. If I'd give them my life, then of course I'd give them two hours of mouse-induced hedonism every once in a while.
More than I give him credit for, my Father provides moments and encounters that are grace, that are exceedingly and flat out all about me. Why? I guess I have to look no further than the view of me standing there leaning on the giant claw prize grabbing machine with the gratified smirk on my face.
He loves giving like this.
All tokens have been expended. Prize tickets have been cashed in for a plastic kazoo and a handful of tootsie rolls. Both of these angels will be asleep on our way home by the time I merge onto the expressway. Grace can be exhausting in a contented, full kind of way.
Thanks, Chuck E. Until we meet again.
(Until I can afford again to stop by.)
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5 comments:
Glad you're back in Austin with your family. Cherish the moments of that special grace...they slip by too quickly. I pray His signal is stronger, and His path clearer as you rest in Him. Peace and grace to you and yours.
Those "little angels" were better for the experience - and probably daddy, too. No worries, the plastic kazoo will evenutally turn up "lost" and the chewed up tootsie rolls WILL come out of the car interior. Computer generated images have made their way to the refrigerator...and all is well now that daddy is home :).
I've been in such a serious place today and this week has been a bit tough. But your perspective on Chuck E and on God's grace lightened my spirit. Thank you!
I'm so grateful to God for His time with you on your sabatical and honored to read your insights and your honest, frank tellings of your challenges. Enjoy your week with Steph!!!!!
So funny about Chuck E. Cheese. The last time I was there it was for an office party. Then I spent the afternoon lying on the floor of a conference room clutching my stomach and hoping that no one would come by! Ian hasn't been yet, but he is pretty impressed by Inflatable Wonderland. Hope you have a great time in Lake Tahoe.
Ted,
I have such a soft spot in my heart for Tahoe, and I know after next week you will too. It's so beautiful there this time of year; you are going to be blown away! I pray that you and Steph will make as many wonderful memories there as we did. Enjoy the "duck pond" and take tons of pictures to share with us when you get back!
PS, Give the critters a big hello and hug from our critters. The "Benster" is still praying faithfully for you, and speaks daily of her friend, MA-LEE-AH (she works so hard to get that out each time!) I have decided to just let her take over with your prayer requests since I seen to be totally OFF these days in my own prayer efforts! :) Enjoy the week!
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