Charles Edward Fromage

Becky and I took our kids to Chuck E. Cheese's the other day.

I know.

Doesn't matter if the place is located in the wealthiest suburb on Earth, still attracts the same crowd as Wal-Mart.

So not hot.

We walked in and I'm thinking five bucks per kid for tokens. Becky did quick math in her head (while I'm taking off my sandals to include toes when carrying the four) and said Option #3 was the best deal. She knows I like saving money more than most people like junk food. Then I noticed the price.

"Ten dollars each?" I asked. "For tokens?"

"Come on, Cheap Ass," she said. "They'll have fun and we'll get to talk."

So, like many other instances in our twenty-five year friendship, I gave in begrudgingly. Handed my kids their cups filled with golden coins and they looked confused.

"Daddy gives us our tokens, but then we come back when we're done and he gives us more," Oldest said.

"Well, that's Daddy," I bark. "The *fun* one. You get fifty-four tokens each and that'll do for a year as far as I'm concerned. Now go play. And don't touch anyone. We don't need any diseases."

Within five minutes, Youngest walks by our booth in a panic. Becky wonders aloud,

"Where's his cup of tokens?"

"Christ," I mumble. "Kid! Where are your tokens?"

"I lost them!" he cries.

"Oh well," I snap, in need of a stiff drink, "No games then."

His beautiful brown eyes well up with tears and I want to slug him. Goddamn kids. Why are they so endearing and frustrating at the same time? Plus I've lost things - it blows. So I feel for him.

Feelings. They sure do suck sometimes.

"Come on," I mumble, taking him by the hand and letting him know in no uncertain terms that he's a pain in the ass. But that I love him anyway.

He takes me to the Star Wars game (of course) and says, through sobbing and sniffling, "I left them right there!"

I look at the floor. Clearly no longer there. I'm about to stroke out. Seriously. Cause I'm going to have to cough up yet another ten bucks so he doesn't cry for the rest of the week.

Then some kid, about eleven, says,

"Did you lose these?"

Hands Youngest his entire cup of tokens. I could have kissed the kid on the mouth. But that would have been a felony. And let's face it. I have enough problems.

"Thank you," I said. "That was a wonderful and honest thing you just did."

Took both my children back to the booth, confiscated their cups of 50+ tokens, and gave them each five. Said to come back for more when they run out.

Apparently Daddy knows a thing or two. Keep the tokens and dole them out slowly - because kids can't be trusted with sh*t.

My near-mental breakdown among sticky children and shitty pizza will be worth it if one mom's sanity is saved by me passing along such valuable advice.

You're welcome.