Something's Fishy.

In the age of helicopter parents abolishing little league scoreboards and pleading with teachers to change grades, somtimes I get funny looks when I don't rush in to scoop Grace up when she falls on the playground. If I assess that she is not injured seriously, I let her pick herself up and brush off.  I also don't let her win board games and, GASP, I make her write her homework again if she did not take the time to make a good effort.  I believe, and recent studies including one from the APA agree, that a little adversity, leads to more success for our children. Now this doesn't mean that I don't lend encouragement or that I think you should openly root for your child to fail.  But there is one situation where it is absolutely acceptaple, if not mandatory, to root for your kid to fail: when they are playing the "Win a Fish by Throwing a PingPong Ball in a Jar" carnival game.

Now this a difficult balancing act.  All your outward signals, verbal responses and body language must convey that you are 100% behind the idea of your sweet daughter proudly landing one of those balls in a jar. Meanwhile, deep inside your dark soul, you are tabulating how the cost of a bowl, fish food, and whatever other totally unnecessary, but necessary things fish require is far greater than the two dollars you just forked over for ten ping pong balls. You must stifle a whoop of joy when her first attempt barely reaches the platform of jars.  You must choke down the rage when a ball circles the rim repeatedly before falling off.  You cringe on the inside or share an eyes-wide silent scream with your wife when a ball slowly tink,tink, tinks across the mouths of six different jars.  You use your mouth to blow a breeze subtle enough to go unnoticed by passersby, but strong enough to send a ball on a wayward course.

Then it gets trickier. Then you must face the ethical dilemma when, after eight unsuccessful attempts, your little girl asks you to try to win her a fish.  What do you do when your precious five-year-old, face sagged with discouragement, asks you, one of her heroes, to slay this carnival dragon and take home the prize? My first thought was to pass the buck and tell her what a remarkable ping pong ball bouncer her mother is. My second thought was to throw the ball six feet wide of the table and say something about how, " it must have slipped." But, of course, I did the right thing; I pretended to have a cramp in my throwing arm.  No, I am not that lame. I tossed the ball high in the air and let the fates carry it to its destiny.  (Though if you looked closely you could probably see me leaning, attempting to put a little anti-fish English on the flight path.) My attempt failed to net a fish as did my wife's throw.  Suppressing a smile was easier now. But then came the toughest task, summoning the courage to pull out another two dollars as Grace begged for another ten tries.