Chaos at Chuck E. Cheese

Last weekend, the little one was invited to a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese. Now, I don't really like this place. 1. It's filled to the roof (literally) with seemingly crazed kids. 2. The stupid tokens cost a lot of money and the return on investment often turns out to be a rubber ant or a sleeve of Smarties. 3. Kids have bullied tickets away from my kids. 4. Shoes need to be off to run rampant in the ceiling tubes. This equals foot funk throughout the place. 5. In the midst of all this, there is a salad bar. WTH? The one thing I like about Chuck E. Cheese: the pizza. But that's certainly not worth all the things that annoy me.

So, as we drove the 45 minutes to the party, I was in a bit of a funk myself. The 9-year-old was banned from getting tokens due to some punishment that will go nameless for his sake. (Think nerf guns, playing a neighborhood away, the sun is going down, and mom has no idea where he is...enough said.) So, upon arrival and getting our security stamp, we are informed the birthday boy has not arrived yet. So we wait and watch the circus around us. 

The little one needs to go to the bathroom, so I threaten the boy to stand immediately outside the bathroom. "Don't even look at those ceiling tubes." Inside the loo, the girl and I begin to "freshen up" when she looks at me with the most sad, horrified face, choking back tears. "Mama, I have a confession to make." A confession? What does a 7-year-old have to confess? "I hate people in costumes." At this point I'm dumbfounded. What the heck does that mean? But slowly the picture begins to materialize in my head. She's afraid of the big, fat Chuck E. Cheese mascot that comes out to scare ... I mean greet the birthday party kids.

"Oh, honey. It's just someone's Daddy in a costume, like Halloween." The tears flow down her cheeks and she stares at me. "I'll just stay with you and when he comes out, we'll walk to another party of the restaurant."

A tiny "ok" comes out. As we exit the bathroom, I'm not feeling really confident this birthday party is going to be happy for the girl. Luckily, the boy remained at his spot, salivating over the coins shining in everyone else's hands. We continue to wait for the party to begin, and that's when she spots the poster. Yes, you guessed it, the one where the "real" Chuck E. Cheese is hugging kids. That's it. Sobbing begins, and trying to convince her to stay flies out the window. "Can we just leave the present and go?" I knew I was not going to turn this situation around.

When the parents I arrive, I sheepishly walk up to them with a blathering child and explain the situation. They understand; they've had a child who spent an entire time under the table because of that Chuck E. Cheese character. We can't get out of that place fast enough; the boy admires the junk in the prize case as we pass it. I watch people filling up their salad plates and shudder. I feel like giving them a brochure on food poisoning.

Perhaps the little one was right after all; I never did like Chuck E. Cheese either.