Not Without the Guitar

Awhile back (I'm talking months and months ago), our family experienced a rather memorable moment at Noble Romans. This has long been one of Ava's favorite places to eat, not only for the pizza and breadsticks, but for the claw game that sits in the corner. Both Erik and I are horrible at winning this game, so we tried for a long time to discourage Ava from playing it. We didn't want her to expect to win every time.

We should have known better.

On this particular trip, Ava noticed a plush purple Hannah Montana guitar inside the claw machine—and instantly coveted it. (The guitar, not the claw.) She put one hand on her hip and pointed the other emphatically.

Ava: I am not leaving without that guitar.

She simply HAD to have it. She'd been good all day, so we caved. Erik and I pooled our extra quarters and dollars. Enough for three attempts. First he tried. Nothing. Then Ava tried to help him. Nada. They thought perhaps I would be lucky, so I tried too. Zip.

And we were out of money.

Ava: I am not leaving without that guitar.

Trying to turn this into a teachable moment, I explained that one cannot always win the claw game. By its very nature, it steals money from players and rarely rewards them. It's a con game, I tried to explain patiently, as Ava grew disgruntled.

Ava: I am not leaving without that guitar.

About this time, our pizza arrived and our daughter was understandably distracted. We hoped this would be the end of that. She brought it up once more, but we explained that we were out of extra money. Too bad. So sad.

So imagine our surprise when—as we were gathering up our stuff to head home—we glanced over to see Ava working the controls on the claw machine. All by herself. Erik and I exchanged confused glances, wondering how she had managed this feat. Where did she get the money? How did she know how to work it alone? Then our questions were simply wiped away as we watched—with a mixture of disbelief and pride—the claw lift up the plush purple Hannah Montana guitar AND a stuffed Backyardigan toy and drop them BOTH neatly into Ava's waiting arms.

SHE WAS NOT LEAVING WITHOUT THAT GUITAR!

Giggling, dancing, full of success, Ava rocked her new guitar. Jubilantly, she tossed the Backyardigan (Pablo, I think) to Hudson, who was watching from his highchair. If I hadn't witnessed this with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. But, people, this REALLY happened!

An older gentleman—the only other customer in the place—clapped from nearby. Had he given her the money? We'd only glanced away from her for a moment. As our eyes sought his, he shook his head, laughed, and pointed at the surface of our table. Then it hit us. Our tip money was one dollar short. Imagine that.

So not only was our daughter apparently a prodigy at the claw game, but she was amazingly resourceful as well. And while some parents might punish her for sneaking away the tip money, I couldn't help but laugh. Despite myself, I admired that kind of brazen determination. Hell, she'd snagged two toys for the price of a dollar!

Proudly, Ava clutched her new toy. She grinned and explained, “I was not leaving without that guitar! And I'm not!”

This event alone was enough to impress my husband and myself, but Ava's skill at the claw game has only grown since this momentous beginning. We are constantly reminding her that one cannot expect to win every time. And she doesn't; she has her losses. But—OMG—the amount of times this girl wins! Honestly, when she sets her mind to something, it's hard to change it. And in this case, why would I? In fact, I'm thinking about starting a petition to make this the next Olympic sport. Any supporters out there?