Aggravated Bubble Gum Negligence and the Relentless Sword of Justice

Today, en route to a run-of-the-mill September agricultural fair, since Madeleine needed to make a bathroom stop (yes, Madeleine..), we stopped at a grocery store, and since it's the same chain that we patronize in our hometown, the boys instantly knew what they wanted out of the gumball machines. But I only had a quarter, so I had to choose between getting a handful of little banana candies for the three of them to share, or spending the entire quarter on Daniel, who was lobbying for a big, fat gum-ball, as always. Ian graciously offered to let Daniel reap the harvest of my quarter-dollar, but I felt that that wouldn't be fair to Madeleine, and also it would set a bad precedent for Daniel himself, so I opted for the handful of candies for the three of them, rather than a gum-ball just for Daniel.

Daniel's reaction to this development wasn't any different from normal. He threw himself on the ground. He screamed. He ranted. He refused to sit in his car-seat, and stiffened his body as I strapped him into it, resisting with every muscle. Within a few minute, he announced, "I feel like a balloon that popped." When we got to the fair, since you pay admission for all your pasengers at the gate as you'r driving in, I identified the list of customers, to the lady, as "Three kids and me." But by the time I had parked, which admittedly took awhile on this first full day of the fair, Daniel pointed out my gaping omission:

"Daddy, you should have told her that there was a ad kid named Daniel... and he's sad because his Dad didn't buy him bubble gum."

Of course, Daniel had the last laugh, as usual. Once we got onto the fair grounds, he saw a plastic sword, and decided that he had to have one. Having learned from my experience, for what it's worth, I was unambiguous and unapologetic, up front, in telling him I wouldn't be getting him a sword. Once again, Daniel plopped to the ground on queue, and the tandrum recommenced. Thi was very entertaining for the pleasant, middle-aged couple at the Republicans table in the main exhibitions barn. We took a break from discussing Governor Roemer's entry into the presidential race, and his visit to the fair earlier in the day, so that I could explain that Daniel has alway maintained this modus operandi.

The sword theme came up over again during the first half of our visit to the fair. I offered to buy him a two-dollar finger puppet, knit from alpaca yarn, since Madeleine and Ian wanted one, and it was cheap, by fair standards. Immediately he tried to determine whether could get the finger puppet in tandem with the anticipated plastic sword. More denial; more rage. The sword theme wouldn't go away.

Finally, we came to the "fishing" game, where children pick fish, on an ersatz fishing line, out of a kiddie-pool, and they get a prize matching the number on the bottom of the fish that they "caught". This is the only game I would contemplate letting the kids play, because everyone's a "winner," the game itself is wholesome, and it doesn't involve throwing darts at balloons and potentially injuring the eyeballs of nearby "collateral damage" instead. The girl who ran the fish-catching racket told the children they could pick any of the prizes in bins on the ground - as distinct from the big, dreamy stuffed animals hanging from the poles supporting the tent. Of course, it turned out that one of the prizes available to our batch of winners was precisely the sword which had been denied young Daniel until that very moment. I hadn't seen it, until Daniel teleported to the bin containing them to claim his much deserved acquisition. Ian got one too.

And it would seem that he was happy with the prize. Rather than waiting patiently in the designated spot outside, for me and Madeleine, as I took her to the bathroom, when I emerged from the lieu with Madeleine, both boys were on an otherwise-abandoned stage having a vigorous jousting tournament. When I took Madeleine to the bathroom a second time, as we emerged from the amenities, Daniel was on the stage alone, slowly, lovingly removing the sword from its sheath, almost in tai chi mode, looking a bit like something out of Shogun. When we got home, Daniel emerged from the car, half-asleep, sword in hand, and boy and sword went to sleep side by side in his bed. It occurred to me that this ritual seemed almost reminiscent of some exotic religion.

The boy who was denied bubble gum ended the day asleep next to his brand new sword. There is justice in the world.

(September 17, 2011)