Be the Crane

Yesterday, the kids and I went to a birthday party for a family friend, Sean. He had his party at a laser tag place so the kids were all excited. Brooklyn dressed in her finest striped tank top, purple plaid shorts, and pink cowboy boots. Between games of laser tag and pizza and cake, the kids played games. Brooklyn played Skee-Ball. Actually, I'm not sure "played" is the correct word. She rolled the same ball up about 20 times. She rolled it up. It rolled back down. She rolled it up. It rolled back down. Her little friend, Emma, was doing the same drill right next to Brooklyn. Up, down, up, down, up, down. Emma's dad, Chris, stepped in to help her out. He whipped the ball up the slope, it hit a metal guard and ricocheted off, nearly taking out seven small kids in its path. Emma's mom, Jen, and I may or may not have laughed until we wet ourselves. Brooklyn gave up rolling the ball and threw it overhand with similar results. Okay, kids, enough Skee-Ball! Let's try Whack-a-Mole!

Clay got his tokens and headed straight to "The Claw". You know this game? Think Toy Story. You're supposed to maneuver this claw to pick up a toy and drop it into the slot where you can get it. How it works in reality, however, is that you put about $500 dollars worth of tokens in the thing and get nothing but a headache from it. Well, Clay walked over to the game and before I could stop him and redirect him to something else, he'd put his tokens in the machine.

I started to warn him. "Clayton, no one ever wins anything from that machine. It never works. Don't be disappointed when you, what the heck???" I stopped mid-sentence as he dropped a stuffed doll into the slot, grabbed it, and ran off.

I called after him, "Clayton! How did you do that?! He shrugged, giggled, and said, "I dunno. I did it like SpongeBob. BE the crane!"

When Brooklyn saw the doll that Clay had won, she dropped to the floor and started wailing that she wanted one too. Being ever compassionate, I told her, "Get a grip or I'm taking you home." She screamed even louder. I grabbed her hand to drag escort her to the car, but before I could move toward the door, Clay came running by and tossed the doll to Brooklyn, saying, "You can have it, Oata!" then he ran off giggling again.

Now what do you do with that? I try to be firm with Brooklyn. I try not to give in to her tantrums. But she has FIVE siblings who get sick of hearing her. They'll give her anything to shut her up and I don't blame them! And really, that was very sweet of Clay. He can be such a good big brother. So, once again, she got her way and the monster we're creating got a little bit worse.

To fully appreciate this, you have to hear Clay's infectious giggle. Here's an old video of Clay scaling the fridge to steal a cookie. Yes, the first several seconds are sideways. I know. Sorry about that. But listen to this kid laugh. You can't be sad listening to this.